Alone
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: Set in the Supernatural universe where monsters are real, this is an introduction to Grace and Serra Browning, a set of sisters born to monster hunting parents. I do not own Supernatural by any means...I just enjoy dabbling in it. Rated T for a sprinkling of sexual content. Appearance of Sam and Dean. (1st in the 'Winchester Ranch' series, eventually including Sam & Dean)


Grace

"To the left," I said to my little sister, Serendipity. I paused, shaking my head and smiling slightly as she held the EMF meter out towards the right. "Your other left."

"Lay off," she answered, whispering fiercely as she glanced back at me. "What is it even supposed to be doing?"

I approached quietly, trying to keep our footsteps to a minimum. Our father had dragged us on another hunt, out in the middle of nowhere, and here we were, using an Electromagnetic Frequency meter to try and find the vengeful spirit that may or may not be haunting the mansion we were creeping through. Dad was on the first floor, doing the same sweep that we were performing on our own.

"If there is any poltergeist activity, the EMF should be picking it up," I replied quietly. "It's been awhile since we were on a ghost case." I stared down at Serra, "Remember in Des Moines? The little red and yellow dots light up."

Serra nodded; her chestnut eyes flicking back at the panel of lights. "I don't like ghost cases," she murmured.

"Why not?" I led her down the hall quietly, trying to extend my senses out around us protectively.

"A gun doesn't do shit."

Pressing my lips together, I nodded at my sister. She was still so young and I hated having her out here with us when she felt so vulnerable. "Watch your language, will you? Dad will light me up for that."

She rolled her eyes, but she nodded anyway.

Our lives were so completely screwed up…I couldn't even begin to tell you. We were monster hunters and we had been our entire lives. We knew more about folklore and ancient rituals than most religious leaders of the world and we did our best to keep the naïve public out of harm's way. The only problem is that I was only seventeen and my baby sister was going to be thirteen in about two months. We were just kids, but our father dragged us around like we were his partners.

"Grace, what's your twenty?" came my father's voice over the walkie-talkie that dangled from my back pocket.

I reached for it and whispered into the mic, "Upstairs, second bedroom on the south side of the house."

"Anything?"

I shook my head and glanced at Serra. "Nothing."

"Come back down here and we'll pack it up for tonight." He clicked off, and thinking he was finished talking to us, I made the move to hang the walkie back on my pocket. "Did you try extending yourself, Grace?"

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the walkie-talkie back towards my mouth and shook my head. "Yes, and I don't know what you expect me to hear or see. I can't use it like that."

About three years ago, I began to experience something that no fresh-into-puberty teenaged girl wants to experience, because life around fourteen years old was difficult enough. When I touched someone, I began seeing their thoughts and feelings flash through my own mind as if they were my own. It was terrifying at first; not understanding what was happening, but soon I began to realize that I could read someone's mind by touching them. I experimented on my sister first. Soon, I discovered that it wasn't an exact science and that I couldn't control what I saw. Whenever I touched someone, I could simply get a glance into their lives: what kind of person they were and what memories they possessed. Serra was an easy read…I had been with her our entire lives, so most of her memories were also my own. I could also tell when she was lying to me, or leaving a detail out of a story because her brain would supply the truth for me as she considered it. Our lives became even more complicated as I got older.

My father had discovered my abilities rather quickly and didn't seem at all surprised that I had them. Instead, he wanted badly to hone my senses and extend them as much as possible, using me more and more on hunts. I was told over and over to shake hands with people we met to find out whom our friends were and if we had any enemies. It was emotionally exhausting because while I read someone, I experienced their emotions and feelings right along with them (not to mention my own), and only recently had Dad backed off a bit and let me have my brain back.

Leading Serra back down the hall and towards the steps, I heard a creak in the bedroom in front of us. I glanced at her, verifying that she had heard it as well. Nodding, she turned towards the room and pointed the EMF meter at the open door. We watched as the yellow lights began to blink and then the red ones at the far right of the screen did as well.

"Six," I whispered to Serra and she fell in step behind me, just as she was taught upon that command. I held the iron crowbar at the ready and I heard the shift as Serra brought the salt bag closer to her chest. "Dad," I said, whispering into the walkie, "I think we got a floater."

"Coming."

I could hear Dad padding up the steps as he joined us. He held an iron fire poker at his side as he fell into step next to me. I pointed as he glided next to me, blocking Serra from view. Another thud echoed through the room and the EMF spiked, just like it should. "Is it tied to the room or an object?"

Dad shook his head, moving towards the empty room. "It may be poltergeist activity, which could mean that it's tied to the house. Or the land."

"You said that it was the woman that lived here," Serra's voice came from behind us, whispering in a hushed tone. "She was in the newspaper. Hung herself. Isn't that why we dug her up and burned her body?"

"It was a theory," Dad answered, moving closer. "We won't know for sure if we got her unless whatever that is shows itself."

"Hello?" I said, talking to the room. "We're here to help you. You don't belong here." The slam of a table being flipped rebounded through the hall. Serra flinched slightly and I knew she felt completely exposed. She was right: haunting cases were the worst because there was nothing you could do to protect yourself except the typical salt and iron. You can't exactly shoot a bookcase if a ghost tosses it onto you. I knew that from experience.

I pointed to the doorframe and stared at Serra. She nodded, understanding that she was to stay there while Dad and I went into the room, looking for the object that might connect the spirit or poltergeist to this world. As we entered, the slamming and creaks got louder as cupboard doors began to open and close and pens and pencils were tossed from the coffee cup on the desk. Whatever it was, it knew we were there to take care of things.

"Look, you need to calm down," I said, turning in a circle in the room and ducking out of the way of a pencil that was coming straight for my head. "Chill out. You don't belong here."

My father stepped around a book that shot across the room and held his flashlight into the room, trying his best to illuminate what he could in the room as the sun set and the lights flickered. "Look for something personal," he said to me, "something that would connect her to the house, or this room."

Nodding, I kept my hand up by my face to protect myself from the objects flying around the room. I flipped through books and files, hoping to stumble upon something that meant enough to tie the spirit to this place. Minutes passed and the poltergeist continued to upend shelves and toss papers around the room, not really concerned if the objects made contact with us or not.

Serra's voice came from behind me, timid at first and then gaining confidence. "Guys," she said, "it's materializing."

"What?" Dad said, turning to face my sister.

"There," she said, pointing the opposite direction down the hallway. "She's down there." Serra turned to face something at the end of the hall, away from the office that she wrecked. "She looks like the picture in the paper."

My thoughts shot to the photo of the woman that had hanged herself off of the banister after learning that her husband had cheated on her. In our hunters' world, we referred to her as a "White Woman" or a "Scorned Woman." I gazed past Serra's shoulder and nodded. Sure enough, there she was, standing at the end of the hall, staring at my father.

"Stay here with me," she said, stepping towards us and solidifying her shape clearly. She looked as solid as Serra as she moved silently down the hall. I turned my attention back to the office, knowing her next target had already become Dad. In her mind, he was a cheater as well, seeing his wedding ring and not our mother, obviously, not understanding the fact that we were his daughters.

I worked quickly and methodically, scanning the room for anything that looked like a token from sixty-or-so years ago. I made it all the way around the room by the time she was face to face with our father, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Stay here with me and be mine," she said, her silky voice ringing out through the hall. Serra looked disgusted and swung at the spirit with her iron poker. The White Woman dissipated immediately, but I knew she would return in a matter of minutes.

"Help me," I said, getting Dad and Serra's attention. "We salted and burned her corpse. This should be over."

Dad shook his head, rifling though a stack of papers on the desk. "It's not," he said, glancing up at me. "Other wise, she'd be gone already."

"Obviously," I said, annoyed. "So, what? Token? Photo? Journal?"

Dad shook his head. "I don't know. This is an office. Maybe it's a love letter or something."

"That could take forever!" Serra said, a whine touching the edge of her voice. "What happens if she comes back?"

"We push for time," Dad answered, looking up at my little sister. "Swing at her with the iron and we can salt the doorway and the windows."

Serra obliged as we returned to searching. Minutes passed and the White Woman reappeared, starting her walk from the end of the hall once more, having eyes only for our father. "Stay here with me," she repeated. I glanced at the doorway, making sure that Serra had covered the doorway well with salt. Satisfied, I returned to searching and struggled to concentrate as objects took to the air once more, occasionally smacking me in the head as they passed. A wind began through the room as well, whipping my hair around my face and Serra's flannel shirt whipped back and forth across her chest.

"Grace?" Serra said, touching my shoulder. "Look."

She pointed to the floor, where the salt line she poured began to spread from the power of the wind that gusted past. "Shit," I said, glancing up at the walls. A photo caught my eye and stared back at me: black and white, looking aged in its frame. The wind gained speed and I reached up, pulling the frame from the wall. Straining to see the printing at the bottom in the flickering lights, I flipped the frame over and pulled the tabs out, freeing the back from the wood. "Lighter!" I shouted over the wind. Turning to toss it towards me, Dad glanced at my hands and nodded. As I opened the back of the frame, a lock of hair tied in a ribbon with a tiny bouquet of dried flowers fell to the floor.

The furniture in the room began to shake as I struggled to light the fire. Finally clearing the doorframe of salt, the White Woman crossed the threshold of the room and shot straight towards Dad. "Grace! Hurry!" Serra yelled. She came closer to me and cupped the air around the lighter and the tiny bouquet, attempting to help block the wind. We both glanced up at Dad, who was frozen in place by the White Woman. She had her arm shoved into his chest, smiling serenely.

Finally, the lighter ignited and I held the tiny bouquet over the flame and watched as the White Woman erupted into flames herself. Dad collapsed onto the floor, panting and holding his chest, and immediately, the furniture stilled, the lights calmed, and papers fell to the floor. Sighing in relief, I watched the rest of the bouquet smolder on the floor and sat down next to Dad.

"Cutting it a little close, don't you think?" I asked, leaning against the desk behind me.

He shook his head. "I knew you'd find it. Plenty of time."

Serra sat down next to us and leaned her head on his arm. I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wood. It had been a long four days.

"You took the girls with you on a White Woman hunt?" Emery scolded as she closed the door to the hall that led to the back bedrooms. "What were you thinking, Tru?"

Truman Browning shook his head. "Nothing happened, Em. Grace found the token that connected her to the house. Everything ended up fine."

Exasperated, Emery put her hands on her hips and turned towards him. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. Serra is twelve years old, Tru, and Grace is still trying to figure out the extent of her abilities and keep track of her sister at the same time." She rubbed her face with one hand and shook her head at him. "Grace is barely old enough to drive. One of these days, she isn't going to be able to cover your ass and you're gonna get yourself killed."

Sighing and sitting at the kitchen table, Tru put rested his head in his hands on the table and closed his eyes. "I know, Em. I just can't do this alone and having Grace with me makes things so much smoother. Her little angel influence just seems to keep us hidden in this protective bubble. It's like they're out there, just watching to make sure she's okay."

"Bullshit," Emery said, slamming her hand down on the table. "You drag her from hunt to hunt using her and her abilities. She can't carry all of that emotion all the time. One of these days, she's gonna crack." She stood back up to her full height and pushed the button on the coffee pot, walking away from him. "She's seventeen, Truman. She's not a hunter. She doesn't have it in her."

Leaning back in his chair, Tru stared at Emery and shook his head. "She does, Em. You should see her and Sere out in the field. They're like two halves of the same whole and Grace would never let anything happen to her little sister. One of these days, her full potential will come out and whatever drags it out of her will rue the day."

"Is that what you're hoping for?" Emery asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Are you hoping that some monster attacks your daughters to push Grace into her full potential?"

"Of course I don't want them attacked," Tru said, back-pedaling. "It just kills me that Grace has this gift and she isn't able to use it yet."

There was a silence that fell between them, both immersed in their own thoughts. The coffee pot dripped and hummed to itself, completely unaware of the tension between them. Finally, Emery spoke quietly, her voice stern. "You promised Evangeline that you would take care of your girls, Truman. If she could see what you have to them…"

"What I've done to them? I've made them into warriors." He scoffed, "They're incredible and it's because I was so hard on them."

"No," Emery replied, "they're incredible because they care about each other. Grace would rather die than see Serra in pain. Not because of anything you taught them."

Truman rolled his eyes and stared at the tabletop, unwilling to make eye contact with Emery again. "I've spent the last seven years getting them ready, Em."

"Ready for what?"

Spreading his hands out wide, Truman gestured to the newspapers that were stapled to the walls and the photos that lay across the table. "This, Emery. Monsters. Demons." He paused and sighed heavily. "Life."

Emery sat at the table, opposite Dad. As she did so, I snuck closer to the crack in the door, listening hard. Serra had been asleep for about an hour, and I think they assumed that I had not been too far behind. I watched as Em tapped her fingers on the surface of the table and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "These girls shouldn't want to be hunters. They've seen first hand what it can do to a family," she began. "Grace is a gentle soul with a lethal touch and Serra's potential is just starting to be tapped, but I don't want them growing up thinking that they only have one option. There's more to life than monsters."

As I listened to her speak, I was grateful that she was trying to defend my preferred way of life. Emery Calico was the closest thing we had to a mother now and she had done her best to give us a place to call home after our real mother died. Dad had been resistant at first, only having regret and the constant struggle to accept life without her, but after about two years and a very frustrated, freshly-into-puberty daughter, he consented. I don't know if they were romantically involved or not, but it didn't really matter to me. I loved Emery and Serra did too.

We first met Emery in the local library in Lawrence, Kansas years before our mother was killed. She was the assistant librarian there and held it as a full time job. Occasionally, I wondered if she had been a hunter once, but I always thought she wasn't really cut out for it. She was the nerd that always had all of the answers and Dad used her frequently, even when Mom was still alive. As time passed, Mom and Dad had left us with Em countless times when they went on hunts that took them out of state or too far away that we would miss big chunks of school. We had grown to depend on Emery and she was always there when we needed her.

"I don't know if there is more to life for them," Dad said, bringing me out of my memories. "Lucia said that Grace would be destined for greatness in this world. That fate had a plan for her and the children she will eventually produce."

"Lucia said a lot of things, Tru," Emery said quietly and I momentarily wondered who Lucia was as she continued, "but you can't let someone from that world dictate what life will be like for your kids."

Backing away quietly from the doorway, I headed back upstairs towards my own bedroom. I had never heard anyone mention someone named Lucia in my presence and had no idea who she was, but I had a feeling that she was a lot like me. Maybe she had flashes of other people's thoughts and memories when she touched other people as well. I had resisted telling Dad about the most recent development: the dreams that I had been having didn't worry me, but I knew it was an extension of my abilities. The older I got, the more facets that I seemed to discover about my psychic "talents."

A few nights ago, I had a dream that was pieced together with my own memories and thoughts from my sister as well, but there was an unnatural air to it, like I was watching it from someone else's eyes. We ate quietly but we looked older. I was maybe twenty or so and my sister was around mid-teens. Our eyes were puffy as if we hadn't slept in days and the waitress brought us food without our asking. I waited and waited for our father to join us from my view as the watcher, but he never came. The dream had been the same for six nights, always from someone else's eyes and always alone in the diner. The more often I had it, the more I thought it was more than just a dream. I was starting to wonder if it was a vision of the future.

I had others like that one before: insignificant dreams that seemed like I was watching from afar, that ended up coming true, one of which happened only weeks ago. I had been walking with Serra through a liquor store and she tripped over her own shoe, awkward on her feet because she was still getting used to the growth spurt that she had been going through for the last three months or so. I caught her, keeping her upright and then the bell over the door told us that someone had joined us in the store. Like I said, it was insignificant, but then, low and behold, three days later, we entered the same liquor store, I caught Serra as she tripped and the bell rang over the door.

It was weird.

I pulled the curtains closed and nestled into bed, trying to calm my thoughts and feelings before I gave in to sleep. That night, I had the same dream, though it had extended slightly. Serra and I drove up in Dad's Chevelle and parked at the diner I had seen countless times before and trudged up the steps, allowing the hostess to seat us near the windows in the back. My eyes were red and puffy, as were Serra's, and we avoided eye contact with everyone as we walked through the restaurant. We sat and ate quietly, accepting food from the kind waitress who, obviously, understood that we were under some sort of duress. Outside, the wind howled and it looked like a huge thunderstorm was heading in.

Waking up the next morning, my head was pounding and I was exhausted. It didn't feel like I had slept at all. There was a knock on my door and I grunted, giving permission to the knocker. Serra came in quietly, crawling into bed with me and nestling close to me. Her memories flashed through my mind as she touched my shoulder with her hand and I watched as I saw my face smiling back at her, handing her money in the liquor store where she tripped and grinning at her as I handed her a slice of pie.

Her memories faded and I wrapped my arm around my little sister. "You okay?" I mumbled with my eyes still closed.

"Yeah," she answered. "My room is cold."

I brought my arm out of the blankets and tested the air in my room. I sighed as I pulled the blankets back up around us, shaking my head in disappointment. "Dad turned the heat down." Pausing, I considered the other possibility, and continued, "Or he didn't pay the gas bill."

"Do you think Emery is here?" she asked quietly.

"She was last night," I answered, turning towards my sister. "They were up late talking."

Serra looked up at me, furrowing her eyebrows. "About what?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "Dad mentioned someone named Lucia and Em seemed mad about it."

"Who is that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, kiddo."

Serra got up a little later and decided to take a shower, hoping to warm up. I headed down stairs to the smell of coffee and bacon and I hugged Emery from behind, careful not to make skin to skin contact and grateful that she was still under our roof. I respected Emery enough not to barge in on her thoughts and memories on the regular. People enjoyed their privacy. "Hi, sweetie," she greeted. "I'm glad you're safe."

"I'm glad you're here," I answered, stepping back and grabbing a mug. "You should just move in." Emery seemed embarrassed. Her face flushed and she looked away from me, facing the bacon again. "What, Em?"

"Nothing, sweetie," she answered, pulling strips of bacon from the frying pan. "How did you sleep?"

I shook my head, not finished with the unspoken awkwardness between us. "No, no, no," I began, stepping towards her. "Let's go back. What was that? Don't make me touch you. I'll get the truth one way or another."

Rolling her eyes and smiling, she stepped away from me, holding the tongs out threateningly. "Don't you even think about it, missy."

"What are you hiding, Em? Romantic trysts with Dad?

"Nice vocabulary," she said, ignoring my question completely. I glanced up at her and smiled, knowing right then and there that she and Dad were romantically involved with each other. I didn't need details, but I was happy knowing she and Dad had sought shelter in each other's arms. Smiling at the bacon, she asked again, "How did you sleep? You still look tired."

Nodding, I agreed. "I am tired. I've been having this dream for a while now about a diner that I'm at with Serra. There aren't any other details, but it's like my brain has it on a loop. It's been the same with varying intensity for the last three days or so." Pouring my cup of coffee, I reached for the creamer and glanced at Em, noticing that she had remained silent, staring at me. "What?"

"The same dream?"

"Yeah, why?"

She pulled the rest of the bacon out of the pan and turned off the stove. "Have there been others? Have any come true?"

Staring at her, wondering how she would know something like that, I nodded slowly. "A few, but I mean, they're like déjà vu. It's not big deal, right?"

"Have you told your dad?" she asked, continuing to stare at me with her big, brown eyes.

I shook my head. "Why?"

"I want you to tell me if anything gets added to the diner dream, and I want you to tell me every time you have it."

"Em, what's going on? Are they not dreams?" I paused, fingering the coffee spoon I held. "Are they visions?" Emery was silent for longer than I felt comfortable. She obviously knew something that I didn't and I wanted to know with every fiber of my being. Fighting the urge to reach out and touch her, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and tilted my head. "Emery, please. What's happening to me?"

Slowly, she brought down plates for the family and began pouring pancakes onto the griddle from the bowl she had already mixed. I could tell that she was battling internally for the words to express what I needed to hear without spilling too much information. I was getting really sick of people expecting me to act like an adult and then treating me like a kid. Finally, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I believe that you're experiencing visions. Your mother wondered if you ever would, because of your other psychic tendencies, even as a small child, and I suppose that with your natural maturity, the psychic end of your body is maturing as well."

I could hear the water shut off upstairs and I knew that Serra would join us in only a few more minutes. "What else do you know?" I asked, knowing if I used the name that I heard last night; Em would know I was eavesdropping.

"That you need to keep Serra safe, even after your father and I are gone. She will be the only family that you have in this world, Gracie, and no matter what, you need to stay united. Together."

I rolled my eyes, having heard the same speech for years from my parents. "Yeah, I know. I've heard it."

"I'm serious, Grace. Serra is going to be a handful when she's older and I need to know that you two will be okay if we're ever taken from you," she replied, using a spatula to flip the pancakes. "I don't plan on going anywhere, but hunters' lives are short. You two need to be ready for it."

I turned and took a sip of my coffee as my little sister came down the steps. She eyed me momentarily and I nodded towards Emery. "It's behind her," I said, knowing that Serra was looking for the bacon she smelled.

She stepped around Emery and grabbed a piece of bacon off of the plate and smiled as she wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you. Daddy hasn't had bacon for months."

"Speaking of which," I said, jumping into the conversation, "why wasn't the heater on this morning? There's almost snow on the ground."

Emery rolled her eyes and gestured to the second flood with her spatula. "Don't get me started, girls. He thinks that we're gonna break the bank, keeping the furnace set to sixty degrees."

Shaking our heads in tandem, I stared at Serendipity and shrugged. "Time to pile on the blankets, kiddo. Guess we're having a cold Christmas."

She glanced at the calendar behind us and counted the days until the twenty-fifth. "Only twenty days left, Gracie," she said smiling. "Shop early."

Serra

Christmas has never been a big holiday in the Browning household, but I think this year might be different. I'm pretty sure Daddy and Emery are in some kind of relationship and she would never let him forget to buy us a present. I'm really hoping that he gets Grace a car so that we can go off together when we go hunting.

It's always a bit of a bummer around the holidays because Grace gets sensitive about Mom and the fact that she's not around to enjoy them with us. I miss her too, but really, I wasn't old enough to really remember any specific traditions. Grace was ten when Mom was killed, only about a year younger than me now, and it's hard to imagine losing someone like a parent when you're ten. Emery has done a great job filling the gap that she left behind, though. Last year, we spent about a week making sugar cookies and decorating gingerbread houses together. I know it sounds like something little kids do, but really, I never had a chance to do that kind of stuff when I was little. The only time I ever remember cooking was when I was with Grace. She was as close to a mom as I would ever know. I was a lucky kid, knowing that I had both Em and Grace in my life.

Chewing on the piece of bacon I snagged from the counter, I watched Grace and Emery's body language as they talked quietly in the kitchen. I knew Grace was different than other seventeen year olds. She had the ability to see what people were thinking just by touching them and I was always curious what it would be like, being able to see people's thoughts and emotions. It must have taken its toll on Grace, especially here lately. She looked exhausted and was crabbier than normal.

I could hear Daddy pounding around in his room upstairs and waited patiently for the telltale footsteps on the stairs. The top one creaked, just like normal, as he came down and I turned and smiled at him as he came into the kitchen.

"Morning, Lucky," he said, smiling at the bacon hanging out of my mouth.

"Hi, Daddy," I said, grinning back. I ripped off the piece that was hanging and offered it to him. He took it, smiling and turned towards my big sister.

She handed him a mug and he took it, greeting her as well. "Morning, Gracie," he said, pouring a cup of coffee. "You feel okay? You look really tired."

I saw Grace glance at Emery and they exchanged a look I wasn't sure what to do with. Grace turned back to Daddy and nodded. "Yeah, I just didn't sleep very well because it was so damn cold in here."

"Don't start complaining about the furnace," he said, the concern forgotten. "You know we can't afford to have that thing running all night long. God knows you've got enough quilts. Your mother brought them all with us when we moved from Portland."

She tilted her head and rolled her eyes, typical for my seventeen-year-old sister. "Oh, give me a break, Dad. It'll cost another twenty bucks to bring the temperature up about five degrees when there's snow on the ground."

Mockingly, he pulled open the curtains and motioned to the field outside. "We're getting some brown snow this year. Oh, wait," he gasped, "that's not snow! It's wheat!"

"Oh stop, Tru," Em's voice came over the argument. "You're freezing all of us out. Bump it up to sixty-six and we'll all be a bit happier."

I smiled at Emery as she dumped a plate of pancakes in front of me. "Thanks, Em," I said, reaching for syrup and a fork. Grace sat down next to me and I grinned at her. Nothing made me happier than having a plateful of food in front of me. She grinned back as she sat down, serving herself pancakes and bacon on her own plate. As I munched, I watched Daddy and Em hug and I nudged Grace with the end of my fork. She glanced at them and smiled at me, nodding in agreement. I smiled widely again as I shoved a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. We were starting to look like a family again.

Christmas came and Grace got a car, just like I thought she would. It was an Acura, not a Chevy, like all of our other cars had been. I remember glancing up at my big sister to watch her reaction and being surprised when she was excited. It wasn't a hunter's car…it was a rice rocket and I was shocked to see that Daddy understood my sister's need to be her own person.

The next thing I knew, we were getting dressed to go to Grace's high school graduation. Daddy was bursting with pride as he straightened his flannel again, tucking in and pulling out his shirt repetitively in front of the mirror. "Serra, which way?"

"You can tuck it in, Daddy," I said as I approached him, smiling, but you should wear a suit jacket with it if you do."

He took a deep breath and shook his head at his reflection. "This is big, Lucky. Your sister is the first one in Browning history to finish anything." He pulled on a tan suit jacket over his blue and black flannel. Nodding to himself, he smiled lightly. "Amazing Grace," he whispered, mostly to himself, and the next thing I knew, I was watching him shake his head and wipe his eyes, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. I approached him to hug and he held out his arm, welcoming the embrace. "I wish your mother could see this."

"She can, Daddy," I said, smiling as I pulled the gun from his waistband. Shaking my head and chuckling to myself, I said, "I don't think you're going to need this at a high school graduation."

Shrugging, we both turned to the sound of Grace coming down the steps. Her long blonde hair was trailing behind her and she wore a teal maxi skirt with a low cut white top; her necklaces of turquoise and gold bounced as she made her way down the steps.

"Grace," Daddy began, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows. "What is that?"

"What?"

He gestured to her vaguely. "You look…"

Emery stepped into the living room at exactly the right moment and clapped her hands together, enamored. "Oh, Gracie," she breathed. "You're all grown."

"Exactly," Dad said, still gesturing with his hands. "She can't go out like that."

Grace looked down at herself, completely confused. "Like what?"

"I can see…" Dad looked away from her and shook his head. "Put those away."

I saw Grace roll her eyes and bend to pick up her red graduation gown. "Come on," she began, shaking her head, "Ryan's getting there early so we can take some pictures first."

Ryan and Grace had been dating for the past three months. I really liked him and hoped she would get over herself and actually commit to the relationship, but I knew she was constantly worried about her psychic abilities and every time Ryan touched her, I knew his memories flashed through her mind.

Walking to the door, we waited for our father and Emery to join us so we could watch Grace walk across our hometown high school football field and become the first Browning graduate.

"Hey, Ryan!" I greeted as we approached he and Grace after the ceremony. "Congratulations!"

Ryan smiled at me in a kid-sister kind of way, side-hugging me. He glanced nervously at my sister and immediately I knew that I had interrupted a conversation that wasn't going well. Ryan looked back at me and seemed to shake it off. "Thanks, Serra."

"Look at you, my high school graduate!" Emery squealed, tip toeing towards Grace and cupping her face with both of her hands and hesitated until Grace's eyes focused once more. "You're a damned adult."

Grace laughed, nodding lightly. Her eighteenth birthday had been three days ago and we were still battling the thundershowers that plagued her birthday dinner. Tornado season was here, but it seemed rushed this year: two had touched down already, bigger than usual. I closed my eyes at the sudden clap of thunder that echoed through the auditorium of the high school.

Emery took a deep breath, looking from Daddy to Grace and smiled. "Is there a big party tonight?"

Grace nodded, eyeing Ryan again. He pressed his lips together and turned suddenly, walking away from our group, heading towards his own family. "What's the matter with him?" Daddy asked, growling under his breath.

Shaking her head, Grace stared at her feet. "Nothing," she said, trying to smile. I could see right through her.

"Grace Evangeline, you tell me the truth," Daddy said, turning towards her, putting his body between me and Grace. "Did you two fight?" He shook his head and glared towards Ryan once more, then his eyes darted at me, anger flashing through his eyes. "I knew I'd need that gun."

"Daddy, stop," Grace whispered, making a face. "He wants to go to the party, but I don't like being around that many people. It's too…loud."

Dad stared at her, understanding. This was the kind of thing that Grace hated about herself. She only wanted to be normal, and normal kids went to parties after their graduation. "Maybe you two go for a little while, just make an appearance, and then head out to a nice dinner together?"

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Grace replied, "Maybe I'm not a freak anymore and I can live a regular life where I can touch people without invading their personal space?"

Emery stepped forward, gently moving Daddy out of the way. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry you can't have what so many of these kids have." She took a breath, taking Grace's chin in her hand and waiting the customary three seconds or so for Grace to come back. "But you have a gift, and some day, you'll be able to use that gift to help a lot of people."

Grace broke away, turning towards Ryan and walking after him. I sighed and shook my head. Being Grace was hard.

Grace

"Wait, Ry," I said, trying not to trip on my skirt as I held it, along with my diploma and my red graduation robe. He turned towards my voice, his face softening as he watched me approach.

"It's okay, Grace," he said, shaking his head. "We don't have to go."

I shook my head, taking a deep breath, "I know, but I want to."

"Why?"

Pausing, I looked up into Ryan's face. The fluorescent lights of the gym made the blue flecks in his hazel eyes pop and it saddened me to see the worry creased through his eyebrows. "Because you want to go, and I want to be with you."

He took my hand and I inhaled sharply as his memories flashed through my brain. _His brother playing catch with him in the front yard of his house. Talking to a customer at the Blockbuster where he worked. My face, make-up free as he surprised me with breakfast one morning._

"We'll just go for a little bit," he was saying, speaking quietly to me. "Just so we can talk to Jimmy and the guys. Brandon leaves tomorrow for Michigan…we're all jumping ship. It's probably the last time I'm gonna see some of these fools."

Smiling, I nodded, unwilling to break contact with his hand. "I know. Come on, let's say goodbye to my family and then we'll find your folks."

Serra was grinning like an idiot at me as we walked back towards the group. "We're gonna go to the party at Jimmy's for awhile and then go to a movie or something," I told Dad. I glared at Serra to get a grip. "Probably won't be back until after one."

Daddy shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets. "What can I do? You're both adults, now."

I rolled my eyes and kissed his cheek, still gripping Ryan's hand so I didn't have to waste the time seeing Daddy's memories roll through my head. "Will you take this stuff home?"

Emery reached for my diploma and my robe, kissing my cheek. "Be safe," she muttered, "this storm is awful."

Ryan nodded as another rumble of thunder rattled the windows. "For sure."

Driving down the highway in Ryan's '89 Ford F-150, I stared out the windows as the rain pelted the glass. I could tell he was thinking about something: silent since we had pulled out of the high school's parking lot. "What's going on, Ry?"

I seemed to pull him out of some train of thought. He shook his head slightly, his hands found his hair automatically and he ran his fingers through it. "Nothing," he answered, his cheeks flushing slightly as he saw me staring. "I'm just nervous."

"About what?"

"Us," Ryan replied simply. He pulled off the highway and put his truck in park, pulling his keys from the ignition. The only sound was the torrential rain that pounded around us and I sat, waiting for him to continue. "I know we haven't been together very long, but you're like a drug, Grace. I want you around all the time and now that we're graduating, it's like…" he faded away, turning his keys over in his hands, inspecting each one as it flipped. "It's like…this part of our lives is over and I'm gonna wake up tomorrow and you'll be gone."

"I don't want to be," I replied quietly, tilting my head.

Ryan nodded, lifting his eyebrows. I stared at the top of his sandy blonde head, willing him to look at me. "I know you don't, but…you're gone a lot, Grace. With your family, doing whatever it is you do…With school being over, there's nothing to bring you back."

Hesitating with my hand over his, I willed myself to touch him, but it was getting harder. The memories and thoughts that floated through my mind each time got more detailed and the emotion surrounding them made holding onto my thoughts difficult. I constantly felt like I was drowning in others' sentiments, losing grip on my own, but I closed the gap on his calloused hand and took a deep breath as I waited to filter through the thoughts.

 _My face floated through my brain again, seeing it through Ryan's eyes, full of passion as we kissed on his front porch. He thought of me again as we were in his bedroom, lying on his bed, both of us shirtless, wondering how far we should go._

 _Then I watched as he stared at my glazed over eyes, seeing myself fade away from him as he touched my cheek, moving closer for a kiss._

 _He knew._

I came back to him staring into my eyes, watching me refocus and he smiled gently at me. "Where do you go?"

Closing my eyes, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to spill everything about my secret life: the monsters, the hunting, the bullets made of silver. I wanted to scream at him that I was a psychic, bound to others through their thoughts upon their touch. I wanted to shake him and make him accept me and what I was without another thought.

"Ryan," I began, but he was already shaking his head.

"Tell me."

He leaned closer to me; the heat of his skin was radiating out towards me and I turned to face him. His forehead touched mine and he closed his eyes. We kissed, slowly at first, and I did everything I could to distract him from his line of questions. I held his face, feeling the teenaged-man stubble that was trying its best to fill his chin. Pulling him closer, I breathed him in, wanting to simply communicate wordlessly, to somehow telepathically tell him everything that ran through my mind.

Ryan pulled away from me, regaining control and opening his eyes. "Grace, please. I know." He leaned back, towards his door and took a deep, ragged breath. "I know there's something you're not telling me, and unless you're getting ready to say goodbye to me, then you've gotta let me in."

Licking my lips, I shut my eyes again. I had never told anyone outside of my family about what I could do, nor had I ever said anything about hunting. I knew Ryan was pushing for information about me, not my family, so I prioritized my personal information and took a deep breath.

"I don't tell people."

"I'm not 'people,' Grace. I'm your boyfriend."

Rolling my eyes, I glanced outside at the small rivers forming along the road from the pouring rain. "Probably not after I tell you."

He shook his head and raised his eyebrows. "Come on."

"I can read peoples' thoughts," I said, too fast, feeling like it was bile and I was sick, all over the cabin of his truck.

Ryan stared at me, waiting for more. "You can…read peoples'…thoughts?" Nodding, I turned to watch the rain. "Grace, what does that even mean? You're, what, a mind reader? A psychic?"

"Only by touch."

I opened my hand, expecting him to pull out of my grip immediately, but instead, his eyes rested on our hands, still together in the middle of the bench seat. "Are you shitting me?"

Sadly, I shook my head slowly.

"Are you reading my thoughts right now?" he asked, attempting to look at my face, but I refused to make eye contact, still staring out into the storm. "Grace?"

"No," I said, turning towards him. "It's only the first few seconds when I make skin to skin contact."

Ryan was silent for a long time and I was patient, still watching the rain. It rolled across the pavement in sheets; the occasional flash and following boom was a gentle reminder that we were in the middle of Kansas, next to a cornfield. We were going to get struck by lightning if we hung around much longer.

Cautiously, I glanced at my boyfriend, wondering how long it would be before he started up his truck to drive me home, back to my family. Instead, he was staring at the rain as well, still holding my hand and breathing normally. I knew he noticed my movement and smiled lightly. "How long do you think you would have been able to keep that a secret?"

"I kept it from Brady and Thomas," I murmured, a smile tugging at my lips.

"They didn't know you like I know you," he replied.

Blushing, I broke eye contact with him and stared out to the charcoal clouds again. I would never consider telling him, but Ryan wasn't my first. Brady hadn't been either, nor Thomas. Ryan didn't realize that I had been using boys to buy my meals for a lot longer than he knew, and my body was just a method of payment. When Emery wasn't around, and Dad went on a hunt, more often than not, the money that he left for me to buy food for Serra and myself would run out long before he returned. I never used the cash for myself. Serra was always my first priority. When I hit fifteen, I was in a state of limbo: I was too young to legally hold a job and too old to beg for scraps. I was desirable at an early age and I knew it.

It kept us fed and I had little remorse.

I stared at my boyfriend, knowing that something had shifted between us. He came towards me slowly, reaching for my shoulder to pull me closer as he kissed my neck. I closed my eyes, smiling softly, realizing that he had accepted me without question. Thunder rocked the pickup as I pulled his football tee shirt up and over his head, keeping skin-to-skin contact with my other hand. He pushed me lower in the seat and struggled to pull my top over my head as well, but my hair and my necklaces got tangled as he tried. I giggled and helped him and he kissed me again.

"Did you plan on having sex in the truck?" I asked as he reached over to the glove box and pulled out a condom.

He grinned devilishly at me as he tried to pull down his jeans. "I was a Boy Scout, baby."

"Always prepared," I whispered, watching him. He lifted my skirt and pulled off my underwear, tugging my hips closer towards his on the bench seat.

That was the problem with teenaged boys. All the parts worked, just too efficiently. It was over in a matter of minutes, not even giving me a chance to find a rhythm, but it didn't matter. Ryan didn't

seem to be upset at the news I had given him…he just absorbed it and I wondered momentarily how long it would be before it blew up in my face. Out of breath and red in the face, he grinned at me as he leaned back and tossed the condom out the window.

"Ry, that's really gross."

"If my dad finds it in the truck, he'll ground me."

I tugged my shirt over my head and sat up, trying to pull my panties back on. "So throw it away at a fucking gas station or something. Jesus."

He laughed, putting the key into the ignition and starting up the truck. Flipping the windshield wipers and his headlights on, he put the truck into gear and pulled back onto the highway. A few minutes passed and he took a deep breath and grinned. "So what do you see when you touch me?"

The party was exactly what I expected. A hundred or so members of our graduating class, falling down drunk, and dying to hang out with Ryan, Jimmy and Brandon, three of the linebackers of our high school football team. I was tossed around, everyone trying to hug me and be a part of the conversation. I sucked it up for the time being, unable to have my own thoughts when immersed this deep into physical contact. All of the girls were emotional, hammered, and ugly, fat tears streamed down many of their faces, smearing their make-up and every time I brushed up against one of them, their emotions would catch a ride with me until I could shake it off.

Ryan was high on the attention, loving the fact that he had me on his arm and a beer in his hand. Jimmy and Brandon were on our flanks as we moved through the crowd and finally, after what seemed like years, we came to a stop on the couch and Ryan let go of me, saying, "I gotta take a piss, then we can get the fuck out of here." He swayed where he stood, "How much have you had to drink?"

I shook my head at him. "I haven't had anything."

"What? Why not?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "I can't stay drunk anyway. And one of us has to drive you home."

He made a face, one of his eyes closing slower than the other. Ryan was trashed. "It prolly shouldn't be me," he slurred, weaving again as he turned to head towards the bathroom.

Sighing, I leaned back into the couch cushions as yet another person approached me, "Hey, Grace," he said quietly.

I glanced up to see the voice's owner and smiled genuinely. "Hi, Carl," I replied. "You're not wasted."

He shook his head and nodded towards the hallway where Ryan had stumbled. "Nope, but your boyfriend is."

Nodding, I crossed my arms in front of my chest and rested my head on the back of the couch. "Sit with me."

Carl's face went slack, suddenly terrified. "Oh, it's okay, I just wanted to say hi."

"Carl," I repeated, "Sit."

He collapsed onto the cushion next to me. I smiled and turned my head to face him. "Why aren't you hanging out with the team?" Carl had been the tight-end on the team with Ry and his buddies, and I secretly knew that he harbored a crush on me from the thoughts that had floated through his mind many times when I accidentally brushed my arm against his in our world history class.

"They're trashed and obnoxious. I only came to say goodbye to Brandon."

"Yeah, that was our plan, too. Then someone handed Ry a beer." I sighed. "That was five hours ago."

"You want me to take you home?"

I shook my head slowly, a grin spreading across my face. "If Ry tries to drive home, he'll kill someone. I'm the responsible one, remember?"

Carl smiled, "That's right," he said, touching my hand. _Fourth of July fireworks. Team huddle. My own face in world history class._ "I forgot."

Stumbling out of his thoughts, I took a breath and smiled lightly, trying my best to shake myself free from Carl's desires. Ryan tripped back out into the living room. "Hey, man," he greeted Carl sloppily. "Get your hands off my girl. She can hear your thoughts, ya'know."

Carl laughed and shook his head as my face flushed beet red. "You're right, Grace," he said, gesturing at Ryan. "He'd kill someone. Be careful in the storm."

By the time I managed to get Ryan out to his truck and lift his keys from his pockets, the thunderstorm was right on top of us. The rain pelted down so hard, it almost felt like hail and the wind gusted through the trees, snapping branches out of them and slamming them against the ground. I guided Ryan to the passenger side of his truck and pushed him forcibly into his seat, trying my best to fight the howling wind.

"Ry, you gotta help me a bit," I yelled, trying to get his leg to swing forward. "You're so heavy."

"You can read my thoughts, Gracie!" he shouted back, laughing. "You're a psychic!"

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I slammed the door of the truck in his face and shielded my eyes against the rain and wind as I made my way around to the driver's side. Finally, safe inside, I put the key in the ignition and put on my seatbelt. "Let's get you home," I muttered, answering Ryan's heavy snore that echoed through the cab of the truck.

We drove down the highway, back towards Ryan's dad's house (his mom and dad had split years ago) and the entire time we drove, I couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that I had creeping up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I did my best to ignore it, thinking it was just the storm putting me on edge.

Pulling into Ryan's driveway, I saw that his dad's Silverado was gone, leaving us alone at the house. Vaguely, I wondered how long Simon would be gone. I really didn't have the patience tonight to deal with a very drunk Ryan by myself.

I parked the F-150 under the corrugated metal of the RV shade covering and listened: hail had begun. I glanced at the sky and the apprehensive feeling washed over me once more, almost as if I was being watched. Quickly, I walked back to the other side of the truck and yanked the door open, waking Ryan and tugging him out of the seat. "Come on, Captian Coors," I heaved.

Ryan's eyes fluttered open and he grinned at me. "Your shirt is wet!" he said, looking down at my chest. "I can see your bra!"

"Congratulations," I said, shaking my head. Leading him up the back porch, I whipped around, hearing something other than the howl of the wind. "Ry…" I began; staring up at the dusky, storm clouded sunset, "are you seeing this?"

Ryan glanced at me, the grin sliding off his face as he followed my line of sight. "Yeah, but I'm drunk, right?"

My mouth fell open as I watched what looked like black smoke circle around the roofline of the neighbor's house. The rain and hail had paused, allowing us to stare without being pelted in the face. "What is that?" I asked, not really asking Ryan, but knowing somewhere deep in my belly that it wasn't something normal.

"You're seeing the smoke, right?" he asked, tugging my arm. "Why is the smoke moving like that? Am I tripping out too?"

I shook my head. "Get inside. Go." I said, pushing him through the door. I had only read about what I thought I was seeing in the sky. I slammed his kitchen door closed and ran to the pantry, shoving canned food aside. "Ry, where's the salt?" I yelled, my voice jumping an octave. "Table salt. I need table salt!"

"Baby, why?" he asked, leaning against the counter top. "Are you gonna make me food?"

"Ryan!" I shouted, ripping open the spice cabinet, "focus! Salt!"

"Top left!" he replied, excitement hitting his voice, thinking he was getting a meal out of me.

The cupboard door flew open as I shoved oregano and cumin to the side. Finally, there it was: a fresh container of Morton's. I ripped open the pour spout and ran to the back door, lining the door jam with salt. I jumped from window to window, repeating the process and Ryan watched, his eyes getting wider with each of my movements. I could tell that sobriety was creeping back into my boyfriend's mind when he finally turned to me as I stood in the kitchen, blessing the sink that I had filled with water.

"Grace?" he finally ventured as I stared out the kitchen window, seeing in horror that there were about a dozen columns of black smoke filling the sky over the neighborhood block. They floated around, darting back and forth under the fading light from the sun, almost debating what houses to fly into. I turned and walked right passed Ryan, reaching for the phone that hung on the wall. Without a word to Ryan, I handed him a glass full of holy water from the sink and stared at him. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Drink it."

"Grace, you're freaking me out," he said quietly. "What's happening?"

Listening on the other end of the phone, I waited patiently for one of my family members to pick up the receiver. While I waited, I gestured to the glass. "Drink it, Ry. Then I'll explain." Finally, the phone stopped ringing and I heard Serra answer.

"Hello?"

"Where's Dad?"

"He's upstairs with Em," Serra said, her voice suddenly cautious. I knew she heard the seriousness in my voice. "What's wrong?"

"Get Dad," I said, not answering her question.

Serra didn't hesitate. "Daddy!" she screamed, holding the phone away from her face. I turned to watch Ryan and raised my eyebrows at him, urging him to drink the holy water he still held in the glass.

"Grace?" my father's breathless voice came over the speaker, obviously picking up the phone in his room after hearing Serra's cry.

"Demons," I answered with finality.

He was up and moving without question. I could hear the base of the phone get pulled off the nightstand as he darted around the room, probably getting dressed. "Where?"

"Ryan's dad's," my voice was oddly calm. Glancing at Ryan, I watched him drain the rest of his water glass and I nodded at him. "On the west end of town."

"Salt."

"Done," I said, checking my salt lines in front of every entrance into the house.

"Holy water."

Nodding, I agreed again. "Yeah. Ryan drank a glass already."

Dad dropped the phone to the bed, as I knew he was pulling on a shirt. He continued speaking anyway; his voice distant and muffled. "You too, Grace," he said, "and find a buck knife or a steak knife and dip it. Be ready for them. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I nodded as I hung up the phone and filled my own glass of holy water. Draining it, I turned back to Ryan and made a face. I could tell that he was edging on complete sobriety and the look on his face was somewhere between confusion and terror. "Okay," I started, draining my glass. "I know we just started talking about the fact that I'm a psychic today, and you are probably still a little wasted, but you need to listen to me and do what I say."

"Grace," Ryan started, trying to stop me.

"No. Listen to me." I set the glass down and took a large knife from the drawer and threw it to the bottom of the holy water filled sink. "My family and I are gone a lot because we're hunters," I continued as I tossed more knives into the sink. "Those things outside?" I gestured to the door, "They're demons. I've read about them. They're in smoke form until they can find someone to possess."

"What?" Ryan was shaking his head, holding up his hands as he struggled to understand what I was saying. "What do you mean hunters? Demons? Grace, what the fuck?"

Pointing to the salt lines across the windows and doors, I continued. "Demons can't cross over salt lines, so leave them there. Take this," I said, handing him a knife from the sink, "and if someone comes to the door, even if it's your dad, test them first."

"Test them?"

"Holy water, Ryan," I said, handing him a water bottle filled with it. "Spray them. If it makes them smoke, don't let them in."

Ryan struggled to stand as I put the last knife in the sink. I refilled it and blessed it again, glancing out the windows. The smoke pillars were gone and that meant only one thing to me: they had found people to possess and things were about to get a little ugly.

The Brownings were small time hunters: werewolves, vampires, shape shifters or Djinn…we could handle them, but demons? That was more than I wanted to take on. Dad had taken on a demon or two in his life, but he always ended up worse for wear and they played dirty. There wasn't a way that I knew how to kill them…they just abandoned the body they had been possessing and found a new one, meaning that you killed the innocent person they had just been wearing. The only defense I knew was just to keep them out: salt lines, holy water, and if it came to it, a Devil's Trap, but I had never practiced making one and didn't know if I could draw the symbols by heart.

"Ry?" I asked, glancing to my boyfriend. He was sitting on the edge of a chair, still holding the bottle of water I had given him.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around this, Grace," he said, staring up at me from his place on the chair. "What does that even mean, 'hunter'? What is it, exactly, that you hunt?"

I took a deep breath as I heard the thunder start up again. As night fell, the storm decided it wasn't completely finished yet. "We're monster hunters. Vampires? Werewolves? They're all real."

Ryan chuckled and shook his head, looking at me. "Bullshit."

"Seriously," I said, walking towards him and lifting the bottom of my shirt. "This scar isn't from a dog bite," I explained. "It was from something called a Djinn. They're these monsters that kill you slowly by draining the blood and fluids from your body, but they're hypnotic…you live in this dream state until you die." I turned so he could see the row of four parallel lines. "One got me pinned about three years ago. Sliced me across the hip and tried to bite me. Dad shot it in the head with a silver bullet."

"Grace…" Ryan tried again, but I interrupted him.

"This," I began, holding down the collar of my shirt to show him the backside of my shoulder, "is where a bookcase fell onto me during a poltergeist hunt down in New Orleans. The shelves were full of glass and the fucker sent it flying. Serra had to pull glass from my arm for days."

He stared at me, his hazel eyes blinking slowly. I reached out to touch his face, trying to get a feel for the emotions he was going through. _Watching me fill water bottles from the sink full of holy water. Seeing the pillars of smoke fly through the air through his alcohol filter, everything was a little blurry._

I could feel Ryan's fear as I refocused on the room around me. I fought against it, hard, trying my best to keep my wits about me. "Ryan, this is all real, but I'm a hunter. We're hunters. My family is coming. We'll keep you safe."

He nodded slowly, still trying to understand. "This is insane. I'm dreaming, right? I passed out?" He looked around and touched me, feeling my arms to see if I was real. "A psychic is one thing, but this? Hunters? That's a thing?"

The rain began to fall again and water splashed against the windows. I heard a truck drive by on the highway and listened to the thunder. A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. Ryan made the move to answer the door, but my hand on his shoulder held him in place. "Wait," I whispered.

"It's probably my dad."

"Your dad has a key." I glanced at him and raised my eyebrows. Dawning comprehension came over Ryan's face and I nodded. Walking towards the door carefully, I grabbed a knife from the holy water-filled sink and holding both the knife and water bottle in one hand; I walked to the door carefully. I waited silently, listening with all of my senses. If it were my dad, he would have announced himself. We had rules.

The knock echoed through the kitchen again; the sound made me jump slightly. "Hey, kids! It's just me! It's Molly!"

Ryan gestured to the door. "Let her in, Grace, it's the neighbor."

"No, Ryan, wait." I gestured to the salt line. "If you open the door, the salt line will blow."

"Jesus, Grace, it's just Molly," he said, stepping around me. Pulling open the door, he stepped in front of me and the wind and rain blew in, spreading my salt line over the floor of the kitchen. Shaking my head, my adrenaline began to kick in and I steeled myself for a fight.

"Hi, there, hon," Molly said, smiling sweetly at Ryan. "Is your Daddy home yet?"

Ryan shook his head, "Not yet, Molly. What's up?"

The door shoved open faster than I was ready for. It knocked me slightly, and I had to take a step backwards to steady myself. Immediately, I pulled Ryan back by his arm, my nails digging into his skin. In one motion, I was spraying holy water over Molly's body, making the demon inside writhe and screech, blocking her face with her hands, and I took the opportunity to heave the door closed again, throwing my body weight against it.

Molly was a large woman, though, and easily outweighed me. I didn't have enough force to get the door shut. "Ryan! Help me push!" I shouted as I braced myself against the door. He stood, helpless, watching me battle Molly for dominance. I sprayed holy water again, gaining footing and as I got the door latched and bolted, Ryan and I both saw her blue eyes turn black with a blink.

"Oh, come on, kids," Molly's voice said, coaxing. "I don't like this body. I want one of yours!"

"Holy shit, holy shit…" Ryan was muttering as I re-poured the salt line against the bolted door. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" He looked down at me, his eyes searching my face. "You were telling the truth!"

"Of course I was telling the truth," I growled. "I'm a lot of things, Ryan, but I'm not gonna lie to you about this."

He was close to inconsolable as the demon continued to bang on the door. My phone vibrated on the countertop and I ran to answer it, knowing it was my dad or Serra. "Where are you guys? There's a demon outside the back door."

"Wearing someone?" my dad's voice came over the speaker.

"Yeah, the neighbor." I paused and looked at Ryan and turned away from him. "Don't kill her. When you get close, pull up to the front and we'll just outrun them."

Serra's voice took over as Daddy handed her the phone. "We're about three minutes away, Gracie."

Glancing behind me, I could still see Molly's face in the window of the door. "Oh, sweetie, let me in! It won't hurt!"

Ryan backed away from the door and stared at me. "What about my dad? What if he comes home?"

"Call him. Tell him to stay at Connie's." I picked up another knife out of the sink, handing it to Ryan. "You need to use this if you have to, protect yourself."

"What the fuck, Grace? What is happening?"

"As soon as my family comes, we're making a break for the car," I said, holding a second knife in my hands. "There are demons. I'm telling you, the world is full of monsters. They're some of the worst."

My phone rang again, vibrating in my hand. I looked down at it, flipping it open with one hand, "Here?"

"Move. There's three at the end of the block," my little sister said quickly into the phone. "Now."

I grabbed Ryan's arm and shoved him into a run towards the front door. I ripped it open and dragged him out the door and down the steps, hurling towards my Dad's Chevelle. The rain had ceased and the clouds were beginning to disperse. I threw myself into the front seat, taking my mother of pearl handled Colt .45 from my sister's hands and whipping around to hand her the knives I held. "Go, Daddy, go, go, go," I insisted as I slammed the door and turned out the window towards the neighbors running full tilt at us as we peeled out of the driveway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Serra pull her matching silver on black engraved Colt 1911's out of her shoulder holster and ready her aim at them. "Serra, wait!" Daddy shouted over the roar of the Chevelle's engine. "They're innocents!"

Holding her aim, Serra waited to make sure we were out of range to tuck them back under her arms. She turned to Ryan, almost realizing that he was there for the first time and smiled. "Hey, Ry."

"What the fuck are you doing with guns?" Ryan's eyes were wide; panicked. "How do you all have guns?"

"Ryan, just relax," Daddy was saying. "This isn't over yet."

I glanced into the rearview mirror and watched in horror as the black columns of smoke trailed behind us as the Chevelle screamed down the highway. "Oh shit," I muttered under my breath. "Why are they chasing us?"

There was a moment of hesitation from Daddy; a look that I was sure I recognized as guilt, but he didn't answer. "What are we gonna do?" Serra yelled over the wind. "There's nothing to shoot!"

"The salt rounds!" I shouted back, turning towards her in the back seat. "We could try the salt rounds for the sawed off!"

"Where are they?"

"In the trunk!" I answered, turning back towards the road. There was no way to get to them, or the sawed off shotgun without pulling over and parking for longer than we were willing to. I reached towards the glove box and grabbed the Sharpie that I knew was in there. "First things first!" I said as I turned around and pulled Serra's shoulder towards me, reaching over the seat and uncapping the marker. "Get closer, you need to be marked." She leaned as I did my best to draw the protective pentagram sigil that I knew would keep Serra safe from possession. "You need this on a bracelet or something."

"I could just get it tattooed," she muttered, glancing at Daddy, behind the wheel. "It would never wash off or get lost."

"No tattoos on my girls' perfect skin," came Daddy's predictable reply.

We both rolled our eyes and bounced up from the seats as he hit a dip in the road that sent us airborne. "Okay, Ry, your turn!" I said, trying my best to smile.

He only stared at me, so I reached for his hand and drew the same mark on the top of his arm, trying to connect the lines through his body hair. The black columns of smoke were gaining on us and I watched them wearily in the mirror. As I turned the marker on myself, we hit another bump and as we came back to the road, heard a deafening pop and Daddy lost control of the Chevelle, skidding and sliding to a stop on the side of the dirt shoulder. We stared at each other for a breath and turned to the doors as one and yanked them open, heading to the trunk, my own sigil forgotten.

Serra had pulled her guns again and was watching the air for the demons that circled the car. There were four, obviously hoping to take our bodies in as vessels for whatever they were planning. Daddy lifted the deck lid and tossed me a sawed-off shotgun and I opened the barrel without hesitation, Ryan watching in horror. "You think these are gonna work?" Daddy asked as he watched me load the salt rounds into the shotgun.

"In theory," I answered, eyes still on the sky, "but I think it's time you brushed up on your Latin."

He nodded and grabbed an old, beaten and torn Bible and began flipping through it, looking for the correct page in Revelations. "Give it to Ry and help Grace load," Serra said, eyes on the sky.

Daddy glanced at my boyfriend and shook his head. "I don't think Ryan is going to be joining us for the remainder of the day," he mumbled, still flipping through the pages.

A black column of smoke dove towards me and I sidestepped it, spinning and ducking out of the way. Serra unloaded five shots in rapid succession, spilling the column in half, but causing no visible damage. It continued to soar above us, waiting for a chance to attack again. Finally, I had loaded as many rounds as I could into the barrels of our two shotguns and waited for my chance to test my theory, one of them resting in the trunk of the car. "Come on, fuckers. Let's play."

"This is bad, Grace," I could hear Serra mumble. "I've never even _seen_ a demon, and now there's four circling us?"

"I know," I answered, steadying myself. "This…this is weird."

The demons began dive-bombing us, one at a time. I pushed Ryan to the ground, cocking the shotgun with one hand and firing at the smoke column that rushed us. I hit the first on with the salt round: it dispersed immediately, scattering pellets of smoke all over us. "Did you kill it?"

I shook my head, answering Serra, "I don't think so!" I shouted, "I think I just stunned it."

Another one came at us, hard, forcing me against the Chevelle to avoid contact. Serra unloaded two rounds from her .45s and one of the bullets hit the sheet metal just right, sending the ricochet back at me, the bullet lodging in my hip and making me hit the ground. "Oh, shit," I muttered, looking down. I could see the edge of the bullet peeking out from my skin, my flesh burned as blood seeped out from around the wound. "Goddammit, Serra! Watch the ricochet!"

"Are you okay?" I could hear Daddy yell, just out of my line of sight, "Grace?"

I was busy firing my sawed-off into the sky, splitting demons as they circled over us. "Fine," I answered, cocking and firing once more, "but we gotta work on physics and trajectory with her." I looked down at my hip again, the sugar skull tattoo I had there (unknown by my father) was unscathed, but it was a close call. Using my fingernail in the moments of peace we had, I pulled the slug from my flesh and threw it at Serra. "That's gonna leave a mark!" I yelled as it hit her in the head.

"Holy shit, Gracie, I'm so sorry," Serra said, her eyes full of remorse. "I didn't think!"

"I know!" Turning and firing twice more, I scattered the smoke again as it looped near Ryan's head. I didn't see Serra turn to the ground and pick up the slug I had thrown at her and put it in her pocket.

"I found it!" Daddy screamed, holding the Bible in his hands and pointing. "Grace, help me," he pleaded. "I don't want to get it wrong."

Serra

I watched as Gracie took the Bible from Daddy's hands and began to read and the bullet I had picked up from the ground thumped against my thigh over and over again, reminding me that I almost just shot my sister because I got cocky.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," Grace began, holding the Bible as Daddy took the shotgun, "omnis satanixa potestas, omnis incursio infernallis adversarii, omnis legio…" Grace continued as I watched the demon smoke writhe momentarily and then attempt to soar away. Three of them made it out of earshot, disappearing over the horizon, unwilling to be sent back to Hell. Grace had trapped one of them, and she continued with the chant as I held my gun ready, but unwilling to fire. "Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te." The demon smoke seemed to vibrate, almost as if it was in pain. It still remained silent, unable to fly or move out of range.

Grace knew the ending by heart, or at least it seemed that way. She held the book, but stared up into the sky, setting her jaw and completing the text with a strength that I didn't know my sister had. "Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei."

The demon seemed to light from the inside and vibrated once more, then shot itself towards the ground, disappearing into a black smudge on the wet dirt.

Everything went quiet, even the wind, and I slowly lowered my guns, locking eyes with my sister. She turned and glanced at Ryan, who was curled into a ball on the ground next to the Chevelle. "Ry?" she ventured, handing the book back to Daddy and kneeling to the ground. "Ryan, are you okay?"

"No," he muttered from his place in the mud. "No. This is fucking insane. All of this is fucking insane. What, you're a family of psychopaths?"

He stood, not bothering to wipe the mud from his arms or his face. Daddy glanced at Grace and shrugged. "Did you tell him you can read minds?"

"That's kind of how the day started," she replied, lifting her eyebrows. "It went down hill from there."

"Holy shit, Grace, that's all you have to say? It went 'downhill'?" Ryan was hitting a point of hysteria and I watched my sister carefully, wondering how she would handle him speaking to us the way he was. Grace had very little loyalty to her boyfriends, especially when they insulted anything that she loved. "Jesus, Grace. This is fucking bullshit."

"She just saved your life, Ryan," Daddy said, turning to face him. He set the Bible next to the two sawed-off shotguns resting in the trunk of our car. "I get if you're upset. We just dealt with some heavy-handed stuff, so I get it. But you don't have the right to talk to my girl like that."

Running his hands through his hair, Ryan turned in a complete circle, obviously at a loss as what to say. "I need to go home. I need this day to be over."

Grace didn't try to approach him, knowing he was done. They were done. I watched my sister and felt badly for her…she wanted so much to be a normal girl, but it just wasn't in the cards. Ryan turned without another word and started walking away, back towards his house.

"Ryan, we can take you home," Daddy said, trying once more to be civil.

"Don't worry about it," he said without turning around, "I can walk."

Daddy and I both turned towards Grace and watched quietly, waiting to her to be the first one to speak. She glanced up at him and then turned to me and smiled weakly. "I knew it was coming," she explained quietly. "While we were at the party, he drank the whole time. It wasn't because he wanted to get crazy. He wanted to forget what I told him."

Nodding, Daddy put an arm around Grace's shoulder and hugged her. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Someday, you'll find somebody for you. He'll be your missing piece."

Grace shook her head and rubbed her face. I knew she wouldn't cry; she never cried about a boy, but I knew she was frustrated. "It's really not worth it." She took a deep breath and sighed, already moving on, smiling at me. "You okay, Lucky?"

I grinned, "Yeah, you?"

"I will be," she said, glancing down at her hip. There was blood caked around the ricochet wound and it had seeped into her white shirt and long blue skirt. I watched too, seeing the bruise from impact blossom around her bone and the crater left behind from the bullet. Guilt gripped me once again and I shoved my hand in my pocket, holding the slug that wounded my sister.

Bending down, Daddy reached for her shirt, "Let me see," he said, stepping closer. "That's not too bad. Good thing it was just a ricochet." He glanced up at me, throwing a look I didn't recognize towards me. Anger? Disappointment? "Remember, Serra," he said, kneeling down to Grace's hip, "steel is weird like that. When you're firing, watch to see where metal angles point." He lifted the edge of Grace's shirt a bit higher, rolling it into itself so he could clean it with the wipe he was opening. "I'm glad this wasn't any higher. We could be having Em pull that out right about now, stitching your sister back up. A stomach wound is nothing to shake a stick at."

I nodded, shame dripping down my spine. "I'm sorry Daddy."

"Don't be sorry, Serra. Fix the problem."

"Okay," I agreed, turning towards the trunk and glancing around, just to make sure we were still alone. Ryan was already almost out of view, walking as quickly as he could to get away from us.

"What the hell is this?" I heard Daddy say to Grace. Turning around after pulling off my shoulder holsters and tossing them in the trunk, I watched my sister's face go beet red, pressing her lips into a tight line. Daddy had discovered her tattoo.

Her mouth opened, searching for words, but she remained silent, staring at the ground.

"Grace, what the hell is this?" he repeated, pointing to the beautiful sugar skull tattoo on her hip. It was loaded with warm colors: oranges and reds with teals and yellows emphasizing the teeth and jeweled eyes. The detail on the work of art on my sister's body was something I had always envied. She came home with it almost a year ago, just to get back at Daddy. He and Grace had argued, (I still didn't know what about) and she came home after being gone for almost twenty-four hours right after she turned seventeen.

"It's a Dia de los Muertos skull," she answered, pride finding her voice.

"It's a tattoo." Daddy's voice was dangerous. He turned on me as he stood, gesturing to Grace. "Did you know about this?"

I was already shaking my head, trying my best to disappear.

"Leave her out of this," Grace said from behind him. "I got it almost a year ago because I was pissed at you."

"Pissed," Daddy repeated, whipping back towards his eldest daughter. "What do you mean, pissed?"

"I was angry, Dad," she continued as I found my way into the Chevelle, sitting quietly in the back seat. "You put too much pressure on her and I wanted a way to remind myself that one of these days, something is going to get us. Death is always right around the corner, Daddy." Grace's voice was strong. "Demons! We dealt with demons today and you're mad about a little ink? Get your priorities straight!" She pointed to me and I remained silent, "Your youngest daughter is thirteen. She used her fucking .45 Colts today without a blink of an eye. Thirteen! .45s!" Grace shook her head. "Mom would be beside herself."

Yanking down her shirt, she strode towards the trunk of the car and slammed the lid. She walked to the driver's side and pulled open the door, reaching for Daddy's cell phone. Opening it and dialing a number, she spoke quickly, her voice still unwavering. "Hey, Em," she began, "can you come and get us?" She hesitated, listening to Emery's voice on the other end. "Yeah, we're fine." She paused again, listening. Glancing at Daddy, her eyebrows were hard, emotionless. "The short version? We fought demons (the salt rounds work), Ryan broke up with me, and Dad discovered my sugar skull. It's been a busy day." She listened once more and nodded. "Yeah, route 10 past the school. Thanks, Em."

Still hiding in the back seat, I watched out the window as Grace walked back towards the trunk and strode around Daddy, sidestepping as if he wasn't there. She threw herself into the passenger seat and crossed her arms, waiting for Emery to come and get us.

Daddy stood quietly for a few minutes, debating on how to talk to us. Finally, he approached Grace and waited, leaning on the rear passenger door, still silent. Taking a deep breath, he spoke to the air, his words hanging all around us. "Grace, I'm sorry I don't know everything about how to raise you both. I'm sorry that Mom isn't here to see you grow into the women that we will both be proud of." He took a deep breath, folding his arms over his chest and readjusting his position against the door. "You're dealing with a lot right now, but I think the more that you use your abilities, the better you'll get at them."

"Is that what this is about?" Grace exploded out of her seat, standing in front of Daddy, almost eye level with him. "My abilities? The fact that I can read people's minds doesn't have shit to do with the _demons_ we dealt with today!"

"Grace—"

"No!" Grace shouted, swiping at the air with her hand, interrupting him. "I am not going to sidestep the fact that I've never even _seen_ one until today and from the look on your face, you have." She gestured at the sky. "The sky has been in turmoil for days and now demons?" She turned away from him and was shaking her head. "What the hell is happening, Dad?"

Staring at my sister, then back at my dad, I waited for someone to speak. I knew that Grace had been having dreams lately, about the storms and us fighting creatures that we couldn't see…it scared her, and because it scared her, it terrified me.

The longer Grace stared at Daddy, the more realization seemed to dawn on her. "This is it, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Armageddon. The end of the world." Grace ran her hands through her hair and shook her head slowly. "The storms. The demons. The killings." She turned away from him and put her hands on her hips. "The more than usual monsters…" Slowly, she turned around to face him one more time. "You knew it was coming?"

Daddy was hanging his head, staring at the toes of his boots. "I had an idea. A couple of my buddies up north have run the same ideas by me." He paused and rubbed his face. "The bigger theory is that there's going to be a battle over Heaven. Us humans are just lucky enough to be in the middle of it. The demons are going to be the worst of it, I think. We're going to need to learn how to fight them. You're going to need to learn how to protect yourselves, because I might not always be around."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because…" Daddy said, standing up, away from the Chevelle, "because it's true. A hunter's life is hard and…and really, I'm lucky that I've made it this far."

In three steps, Grace closed the gap and touched his exposed part of his arm without warning. I knew that she was after the truth and Dad tried to move out of her way, but she made contact and held him there, against the car. I watched her face go slack as she dove into his brain and watched his thoughts and memories wash over her.

Even though she was gone only three or four seconds, as she pulled away from Daddy, I knew that she had seen something that had changed her relationship with our father. It was as if our entire world shifted.

"How could you?" her voice was cold and almost a whisper.

Daddy was shaking his head, "Grace, you don't know. I had to."

"That's bullshit and you know it." She turned away from him as Emery drove up, parking behind the Chevelle as Grace walked out into the wheat field. I had no idea what had just happened between Daddy and Grace, but I knew it was something that they would not easily recover from.

Em walked up, glancing at Grace as she stood in the middle of waist-high wheat and let her head hang back to face the sky. "Are you guys okay?" she asked, hugging me as I got out of the Chevelle to greet her.

I nodded and looked up, saying, "Yeah, we were. Now, I don't know what is happening."

Emery tilted her head towards Daddy and gestured to Grace. "Tru?"

"She knows."

Emery closed her eyes and buried her face in my hair. Whatever was happening was bad. It was destroying my family.

We finally arrived back at the house after a long evening of towing the Chevelle with Emery's Blazer and Grace didn't waste any time climbing the steps towards her bedroom. I didn't bother trying to understand what Daddy was hiding from me. I knew I would find out eventually from either Grace or Em, but what I was more confused about was the fact that Daddy would hide anything from us to begin with.

The house was silent that evening as I put my laundry away and tried to tidy up my room, doing my best to keep my senses on high alert for when Em and Daddy began discussing Grace so that I could eavesdrop. Grace hadn't left her bedroom since we got home and I knew better than to try to talk to her when she was in this foul of a mood.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I could hear the telltale scrapes of the kitchen table and chairs, as Em and Daddy got comfortable to have their evening coffee together. It was a ritual that had developed after the years that we had spent as a family and I padded to my bedroom door and pulled it open gently to listen.

"—out eventually," Emery was saying, her voice disgusted. "Trying to hide anything from that girl is ridiculous. You had to have known that you would get caught."

"I made it this long, Em. Spare me the lecture. We need to deal with the bigger issue here," Daddy was saying, "Demons, now? The girls aren't ready."

Emery was ready. She shot back, "Bullshit, Truman. You've had them out since they were babies. From the sound of things, Grace and Serra took care of the demons. You stood there and supervised."

"Did you know about her tattoo?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes."

Daddy sighed and made his way up and around the kitchen, pacing with his coffee mug in his hands, I was sure. He would hold the mug with one hand, not using the handle, but holding the cup itself, and then complain later when the hot liquid would eventually burn his hand. Grace had the same habit and I reminded her on a constant basis that she and Daddy were more alike than they realized.

"Now that she knows, she's going to be on you all the time. Constantly," Emery said, breaking his thought process. "Does she know when?"

"No," he answered. "She only knows that I made the deal."

My breath caught in my throat and I backed out of the hallway, trying not to make a sound. I crawled to Grace's bedroom and opened her door without knocking. She lay on her bed, her back towards the door, and I made my way through her room on my hands and knees. She didn't acknowledge me or move in any way, so I stood, walked to her bed and crept into bed with her. Laying against her back, I curled around her, wanting to be as close as I could to my big sister as tears filled my eyes, realizing that Daddy had made a deal with a Crossroads Demon. For what, I would have no idea, but Grace and I had read about them along the way and I knew that after his contract was up, a demon would come for him. Suddenly, I understood why Grace was so upset.

She turned around, facing me, and wiped her face. I nestled into her pillow and she closed her eyes as I got close. I knew flashes of my own thoughts and memories were dragging their way through her mind, so I waited to speak. I heard her take a breath and glanced up at her.

"Daddy made a deal."

She nodded.

"How long?"

Shaking her head, a tear dripped from her eyes to my cheek.

"What do we do?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Taking a deep breath and staring at me from her position on the pillow, Grace's jaw set and her eyes took on a look of determination. "We change his fate."

It didn't stop with the first demon attack. They seemed to suddenly be everywhere. For my fourteenth birthday, Grace gave me a silver charm bracelet full of protective sigils that I never took off. I asked what protection Grace had and she just shrugged and smiled. "I'll figure something out."

I had just begun high school and we were separated during the day while Grace was at work at the restaurant down the street from the high school. Daddy and Em continued to hunt while we did our own thing, trying their best to hear what we needed to know about the continuing battle over Heaven.

We had heard rumors that the archangel Michael needed a human vessel in order to send Lucifer and his human vessel back to his cage in Hell. I had no idea what fool would take on that job, but it seemed like the entire hunting world spoke in hushed tones about it. Every once and awhile, I would catch Daddy and Emery discussing the Apocalypse after they thought we had retreated to our bedrooms for the night.

"-chester boys are in deep, I hear. The older one is supposed to be Michael's vessel? Did you hear that?" Daddy asked as he poured a cup of coffee for Em, adding milk and sugar and stirring it slightly.

"Were they John's boys?" Emery asked, taking a sip.

"Think so. You know," he said, taking a drink of his own coffee, "I heard John wasn't even in the business before he married his wife. Wasn't til after his wife died that he got into it."

"Breaks my heart, what I've heard about those boys."

I backed up the steps, butting out of their conversation, having no idea who they were talking about. Walking over to Grace's room, I knocked twice, waiting for a response. She was muffled from inside the room, but I took it as permission and opened the door.

She was standing in front of her closet, in just her bra and underwear, looking through her scant clothes for something to wear. I had never realized just how pretty Grace was; her legs were so much longer than mine and her blonde hair tumbled down her back, her curves in all the right places. "What's up, Sere?" she asked, not looking at me.

I shook my head and shrugged. "You and I don't even look like sisters."

"Sure we do," she replied, finally turning towards me. "Our eyes are shaped the same and we have the same cheeks and chin." She walked over to me and smiled. "Same smile."

I gestured to her body with my eyebrows up.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You just turned fourteen, kiddo. You haven't even started yet."

I blushed and turned away from her. "When did you start?"

Grace pulled out an old Chevy shirt from her dresser and pulled it over her head. "I was in eighth grade," she replied, making a face. "In gym class."

"Ew, really?" I giggled, covering my mouth.

She laughed too, lying back on the bed. "Oh yeah," she continued, smiling. "I felt it coming and hit the door running."

We giggled together a few more minutes and she let her arm fall over her face and quieting down, she took a deep breath. "You'll get the legs and boobs soon, kid. Then you'll be unstoppable." She turned and handed me a wad of cash. "Just like me."

"Where did you get this?" I asked her, taking the cash and feeling the weight in my hand. There had to be hundreds of dollars here.

"Poker game," she answered. "Jordan thought I would be an easy mark, so he took me to 'boys night.'" Grace laughed, clicking her tongue. "I got a little touchy and started to win."

Jordan was Grace's newest boyfriend, and I used the term in the loosest of ways, and was from a wealthy family in town. He was a little skuzzy, but he was good for a hot meal every day and made sure to include me when he could. I knew Grace would use him for as long as possible, if nothing else, to keep us fed while Daddy insisted on hunting demons. Ryan was long forgotten now, and Grace seemed to know that she had assets to use for our benefit…I didn't know how I felt about my sister using her body to con men into buying us food, but I saw the benefits of it.

Emery had been let go from her job at the library, due to budget cuts, and now she lived with us on a constant basis. Her apartment was too much on her own, so Daddy made the decision for her. They hunted, even when we couldn't go, and every time they left for a hunt without us, Grace spent the time they were gone on edge and completely unwilling to interact with anyone besides me. I knew she was worried about the demons and the deal Daddy had made. Neither one of us knew when his time would run out and I felt like every time I said goodbye, it would be the last time.

As years went on, I started noticing other things about my sister as well. We had known about Grace's ability to see other peoples' thoughts and memories by touching them, but as we got older, I was noticing that the dreams she was having were turning to reality. More and more often she would tell me about a dream she had and then weeks later, we would exchange a glance because we were watching it play out step by step.

The first time Grace had a vision while she was awake, I was standing next to her in the kitchen, drying the dishes she handed me from the sink and we were in deep discussion about Daddy and Emery's relationship…we were both hoping that they would bite the bullet and get married. I had just turned fifteen and the snow piled up in our front yard. Grace had just been saying that she was going to turn up the heat while Daddy was gone, but midsentence, she froze, her eyes glazed over and she was seeing something I couldn't. She dropped the plate she was holding back into the soapy water and I turned to stare at her, trying to decide what to do.

"Grace?" I ventured, moving towards her. "Grace, are you okay?" She remained locked in place, her eyes still open wide, seeing nothing. She barely breathed and I touched her to try to get her attention. "Gracie, can you hear me?"

We were home alone, waiting for Emery to come back from doing research so that we could go out to dinner to celebrate my birthday. Daddy would be meeting us at the restaurant later on. I had no idea what to do, so I stood, staring at my big sister, waiting for her to come back to me.

Minutes later, Grace's eyes darted around, coming out of whatever trance she had been in, and she stepped back, trying to get her bearings. "Grace?" I repeated, trying to get her to look at me. "Grace, what happened? Are you okay?"

Tears flooded Grace's blue eyes as she silently backed away from me and pulled her hands out of the soapy water in the sink and started shaking her head, unable to find the words. "Grace, sit down, here," I said, guiding her to the kitchen table. "What the hell? What was that?"

For the first time, Grace looked up at me and shook her head once more, panic taking her expressions and tears streaming down her face. "Gracie, please talk to me," I whispered, bending down to stare at her. "Grace?"

"Daddy," she finally managed, gasping for air.

"Daddy what? Did you see him?"

She nodded her head, lifting her hand to wipe her face.

I sat at the chair across from her, handing her a towel for the suds that now trailed down her cheek. "What did you see?"

She was silent for a few more minutes, simply unable to speak, but I did my best to be patient with her, putting together that this had to be an extension of Grace's abilities as a psychic. It had to be. Worry gripped my chest, though, knowing that she had seen something that made her cry that had to do with Daddy.

When she finally took a deep breath, she seemed ready to talk. I turned to her, listening, as she began to tell me what she saw.

"Storm," she began quietly, still trying to find the words, "thunder and lightning."

I nodded, pulling a chair in front of her and watching her intently. "Come on, sis. Words."

"You drove," Grace replied, finding my eyes finally, "standing at the top of a hill. Watching Daddy fight." She shut her eyes tight and shook her head, still fighting for composure, "Screaming for him to let it go."

"Let what go?"

She locked eyes with me. "Fighting a demon."

Grace

The newest extent of my psychic abilities was not something that I wanted to continue. The vision was worse than a dream…it was like I had been there, drenched in the rain and flinching from the thunder and lightning. Daddy and a man (I knew he was a demon wearing a meat suit) were fighting, hand to hand, in the parking lot below us. Serra and I had been screaming at him to leave, to come with us to safety. He had ignored us and fought on, losing the blade he had and I watched in horror as Daddy was stabbed through the chest and fell to the ground.

I seemed to finally come back to the kitchen sitting in a chair, having no idea how I got there. I stared up at Serra, trying to get a hold of my breathing and blood pressure.

"Grace?" Serra was saying, her voice still distant, "Gracie, are you okay?"

I was shaking my head, but completely unable to answer. It's as if my words were stuck in my brain, fighting to get out of my mouth, but it refused to open.

"Should I call Daddy?" Serra was asking, her hands wanting to be closer to me, but she was unwilling to touch me. I knew she was just trying to keep me from having more thoughts that weren't my own, and for that I was grateful.

Still shaking my head, I was finally able to move, looking around the room and I tried to get up. "Wait, Grace, wait. I don't want you to pass out."

"I'm not going to pass out. I might puke, though," I whispered, stumbling to our downstairs bathroom. Pulling my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck, I held it as I vomited and gasped for air. Serra was on me then, holding my hair back for me and looking for a hair tie.

She rubbed my back as I was sick twice more and patiently, she watched me in the mirror. Her face was so beautiful and she looked so much like mom, it almost hurt to stare at her for too long. "You want some water?" she asked quietly, putting my hair up with the hair tie she found on the counter top.

I shook my head again, leaning on the sink with my head down. "It was so vivid," I found myself saying, "the rain and thunder. You screaming. Daddy fighting. We were up on a hill…the parking lot was below us. You were driving the Chevelle." Glancing up at my sister, concern washed over her porcelain face and I was hesitant to continue. "I saw it go down, Lucky. I saw him die."

Serra was shaking her head and she did her best to hold back tears. "We can change it, right? We'll just keep him home when it starts to rain. Or, we'll just stay away from that hilltop?" She was searching for words, "I'll never drive the Chevelle."

I was nodding, but somewhere deep inside me, I knew that this was something that was supposed to happen. It was unavoidable and I didn't have it in me to tell my sister the truth. "Yeah," I said, "we'll figure something out. We can change it."

Serra nodded and hugged me, pulling me close in our traditional hug. My head rested on hers and I allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks. Our father would die, and there was nothing that I would be able to do about it.

Months passed and I felt like I was walking around my family on eggshells. Touching anyone would give me headaches and the entire world seemed to be turned up to full volume. Every time I would try to bring it up with Daddy or Emery, they would redirect the conversation to how blessed I was that I had the abilities that I had. I felt betrayed by Em, thinking that she would always have my back. It turned out that she was just as willing for me to use my talents to protect my family as Dad was. "Always be on the lookout, Grace," she would say. "You have a big responsibility: protect your sister. Use what you find out about people to learn what their intentions are."

I would always roll my eyes and walk away from her, reluctant to get into another argument about not using them at all. I hated making physical contact with anyone. I would have rather stayed in my room, locked up, away from the world. Especially once more visions began.

We were on a hunt in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, looking for the cluster of demons that we had caught wind of. A fellow hunter had called my father, hoping to use my skills to distinguish demon from human with a simple touch of their hand. I was on edge, more than usual, dreaming vividly of demons killing my father every time I closed my eyes. Serra knew that I was spent, but she went along with Daddy's plan, mainly because she didn't want to leave me unattended.

Daddy sent me into a dive bar, Serra in my wake, to make friends with the locals. Luckily for us, puberty had hit Serra fast and hard, her body was hardly one of a teenager and more of a woman with each passing day, and it didn't occur to anyone to ask how old we were. We were only a few weeks out from my twentieth birthday and I wanted nothing more than to curl into bed, sheets pulled up over my head, and wait for the rest of the apocalypse to figure itself out.

There had been tornado warnings on and off all day, the black clouds thundered in the distance, but Daddy told us over and over again to just go and get the information that we needed and we could go home afterwards. Serra sat across from me and tilted her head at a group of men in the corner of the bar. I lifted my eyebrows, _Maybe_ , I thought, not really committing to anyone yet.

The server came up to us and tilted her head, "Aren't you two a little young?"

"I'm having a really rough week," I muttered, deadpan. "We're fraternal twins a few days away from our twenty-first birthday."

"Uh-huh," the waitress said sarcastically. "And what will you and your fraternal twin be having today?"

"Couple of beers," I replied automatically. It really didn't matter what I drank. I figured out months ago with Jordan and his buddies that was physically unable to stay drunk. Chalk it up to another one of my many "talents." We had played quarters with tequila and I was the only one that hadn't passed out. I knew Serra had been sneaking beer since the first demon attack, sampling different brands as Daddy brought them in. Her running favorite had been a local brew, but she was smart enough to only drink one or two of them at a time, and Daddy was never the wiser.

The waitress walked away, clicking her tongue, and Serra glanced towards the door, crossing her arms on the table and I knew that she was fingering her guns from under her denim jacket. She had spent the last two years working her aim into perfection at gun ranges or simply out in a wheat field, firing at cans. I knew it stemmed from hitting me with a ricochet, the first time we battled the columns of smoke, and every once and awhile, I would catch her spinning the .45 slug that I pulled from my hip across the floor or desk in her room. She took that accident very personally, and I knew that my sister would rather die than hit me with a stray bullet again.

I glanced at her, my adrenaline beginning to pump through my body. "Well," I began, "let's get this show on the road so we can go back to the motel."

"Who first?"

"I'm gonna go talk to our biker friends," I explained, gesturing to the men in the corner of the bar, "but I have a feeling they're just bikers. I'm more curious about the group of lovebirds here at this table," I whispered, pointing gently at the set of couples at the round table to our left. "Observe, categorize," I started.

"Manipulate when necessary," Serra finished automatically.

I grinned at her, reached into my shirt and pulled my boobs as high as they would go in my bra. "That enough cleavage?" I asked Serra, looking down. The gray tank I wore hugged all the right parts of my body and I had no shame in using it to get what I wanted. I was wearing a pair of Serra's Daisy Dukes and the denim barely covered my ass.

"You should have worn that black lace one," she said, smiling up at me. "It has those air pillow things. Your tits are hot in that."

"They barely fit in that one."

"I know. That's why they're hot in it."

Shaking my head at her, I turned on a booted heel and strode over to the leather clad men at the bar. They stank of whiskey and cigarette smoke, but I threw myself into the group, leaning on the bar and smiling flirtatiously. "Hey boys," I ventured, my voice low and sensual, "what are we drinking?"

The youngest of the group was still in his thirties, but he was cute, so I let him lean forward to stare at my chest. "You look like a girl that can handle your whiskey," he said, grinning. "I'll buy you a round if you promise to stick around for a bit."

The other men seemed to approve of his come-on, so I made a face, pursing my lips and winked at him. "I could probably drink you under the table," I replied, turning to lean my elbows on the bar behind me, sticking my chest out as I spoke. "As long as you're buying, I'll keep up."

"Oooooh," the group of men's voices echoed out from all around me. "Sounds like a challenge," one of the older ones said. "I'll put ten on Tits."

"Only ten?" I asked, raising my eyebrows doubtfully. "I sense a lack of faith," I said, holding out my hand to shake his. "Juliette," I said as he took my hand. I could hear him answer with his own name as I was plunged into his brain: his memories and thoughts began crashing over me as I struggled to keep my wits about me.

 _Changing a tire on a Winnebago with a younger version of himself._

 _Holding a bouquet of roses over a grave marked, 'Gladys Hemmings'._

 _Riding his motorcycle across the plains of the Midwest alone._

I came back as he was introducing the rest of his group, ending with the youngest one. I stared at him, chin down, small smile, eyelids heavy. It was all of the body language cues that I had learned over the years when I wanted something out of a man. I assumed these guys weren't the demons Dad was looking for, but I also knew I could get a meal or two out of him.

"Hi, Juliette," he said, his lips curled in the faintest of smiles, "I'm Rob."

"Hi Rob," I said. "You ready to lose?"

He chuckled as raised is shot glass of Jameson. "If I have to lose, I'd want to lose to you."

"That's the right attitude to have." We both tossed back our first shot as I made eye contact with Serra at the other end of the bar. I flicked my eyes towards the couples in the corner and non-verbally gave her instructions, gesturing at the woman's purse on the floor.

She caught my hint almost immediately. Standing and stretching, she headed towards the bathroom and tripped on the strap of the purse, catching it on the toe of her boot and falling into the wall, spilling contents of the woman's purse all over the place. I watched carefully from my spot in the middle of the bikers, looking for the telltale demon signs. They were quick to anger and when they lost their cool, their eyes would blink black. Something as simple as Serra tripping over the purse would irritate most demons immediately.

Serra bent to help pick up the woman's belongings, and as she was staring down at the floor, I watched the pretty redheaded woman's green eyes flash black so quickly, I almost missed it. Serra glanced over at me to get a confirmation. I nodded once as I tossed back my second shot of Jameson.

Demons.

An hour or so passed while we drank with the bikers at the bar, the whole time, I kept my eye on the couples in the corner, waiting for them to make their move. Serra held her own, but as she picked up her fourth shot, she threw me a look that I knew meant she was done. I bumped her 'accidentally', spilling her shot all over the front of my tank, and she apologized profusely, making a show of blotting me with napkins.

I glanced at Rob and he grinned, watching the amber liquid make its way down my cleavage. I winked at him, and as I was opening my mouth for something witty and flirtatious, the sound of an air horn floated through the wind. Sobriety hit Serra quickly, locking eyes with me. She wasn't afraid of much in the world, but tornadoes scared the shit out of her.

"Well, fuck," one of the older bikers said quietly, his breath sweet with whiskey. "I wondered if we'd get one today."

"One what?" Rob asked, glancing at his buddy.

The grizzled old man, clad in leather, put his trucker cap on and stood from the barstool. "Twister, boy. From the smell of the sky, gonna be a biggin' too."

I could feel Serra edge her way closer to me, her fear fighting its way through her mind as she struggled to stay calm. We were at least six miles from the motel and the only storm cellar that I knew of, but at the same time, I didn't want to lose the trail of the demons that we had discovered. Dad would be pissed if I blew it because of a storm.

Rob turned to take my hand. "Well, gorgeous," he said to me. "We should probably screw under cover. Wouldn't want to get sucked up by anything but you."

Serra glanced at me, watching my face go slack as he made contact with my fingertips.

 _Watching the sky for signs, waiting for the clouds to roll in._

 _Seeing his son ride a tricycle down a driveway._

 _Staring at his own face in the mirror, his blue eyes blinked black as he wiped the moisture off the glass._

Gasping, I gripped Rob's hand so I didn't lose contact, and whipped around to face Serra. "You can probably make it home before the storm hits," I said to my sister as I allowed Rob to lead me away. "Take my car and get settled before it starts."

Blinking recognition, Serra turned away from me and headed out into the wind. I knew it would take everything she was not to panic as the rain began to come down with the storm siren wailing in the background, but I knew she would call Dad and Emery and come back to get me. We would take care of these fuckers together. I just had to hold it together until then.

Serra

I've learned more from Grace in the last two years than I ever have from school. The way she moves, the way she positions her body and uses eye contact…it's manipulation at its finest. As soon as she turned to tell me to "go home," I knew that she had discovered that Rob was a demon. Our grand total is up to five, but I knew there would be more.

Standing outside, next to the car, I pulled my phone and flipped it open and dialed Daddy's number.

"Serra?"

"There are five so far at the dive we're at," I said, not wasting any time. "She hooked one and the tornado sirens just went off, so she's letting him take her downstairs to the storm cellar." I spoke quickly, the nervous knot in my stomach tightening every time the wind whipped my hair.

"What about the other four?" he said, ignoring the fear that crept into my voice.

I glanced around, hearing thunder in the distance. "They're uh—they're still there. I think they're a group together."

"Serra, you stay on her. Don't leave her by herself."

"Daddy, the sirens went off," I repeated, as the window of Grace's Acura reflected the lightning strike in the distance.

He was distracted. I could tell he was getting ammo and stuffing his bag full of salt rounds for the sawed off that my sister had loaded the night before. "Suck it up, Serra. You've got bigger problems than a tornado. Your sister is in a den of demons. Get your ass back in there and help her."

I nodded and agreed. "Okay," I said, grabbing a shotgun out of the back seat of the car. "I can't just go in, guns blazing. How do I get the shotgun in there without causing a scene?"

"You're a Browning. Improvise."

He hung up the phone and I was left, standing in the rain, searching for a way to get our weapons inside without being obvious. There was another lightning strike and I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. The snap of the electricity changed the smell of the atmosphere and from a distance, I could hear a low roar.

Turning slowly, the tingle of electricity shooting down my spine as I watched a giant tornado touch down, not five miles from us. I closed my eyes, doing everything I could to stay in control. I glanced back at the trunk of the car and had an idea.

With a mission in my head, I had something else to focus on besides the tornado that bellowed in the distance. Yanking the duffle bag out of the back seat, I ripped it open and threw every weapon we owned into it, along with ammo, knives, bottles of holy water, and the extra clothes we had stored. I even grabbed Grace's leather purse, tossing it in right next to her pearl-handled .45 that she hated to use.

Zipping it up and throwing it over my shoulder, I strode across the parking lot, back into the bar and smiled at the barkeep. "Son of a bitch touched down," I said, gesturing to the bag, "had to load up all my stuff in case it comes for my car."

"Good call," said the waitress that brought me the beers we ordered when we got here. "Your sister went down into the storm cellar, back there. I'm gonna be joining you in about three minutes."

I glanced down the hall and smiled, "Thanks," I said, glancing the empty table where the other four demons had been, only moments ago. I walked down the hall, towards the storm cellar door using all of my excess energy to stay contained.

Pushing my way through the steel storm door, I was met by ten sets of eyes; only three sets were colors I recognized as human. They blinked and blackness was cleared away, revealing a more human feel to the room. Grace was draped over Rob, her legs over his as she leaned against the wall. His hand was clutched around her ass, holding her in place.

Grace watched me walk in with the duffle slung over my shoulder and she smiled at me: proud. Rob glared at me predatorily. He had obviously dubbed Grace as his and eyed me as I found a spot on the ground. "Tornado touched down," I said offhandedly. "We're stuck in here for a bit."

"Aw, shit," the rough, older biker said, shaking his head. "My ride is out there. Just got the exhaust chromed."

"That sucks, dude," I replied, making conversation as I used my boot to push the duffle closer to Grace. "Yours the one on the end? The green and black Indian?"

"Hey…pretty and smart," he answered, a grin showing through his beard and mustache. "You got some potential on you, little girl. Get some years on you, you'll be almost as tough as your sister, here."

Grace and I exchanged a look and she nodded at me. "Almost," I agreed, tossing a water bottle full of holy water to her. She grabbed it out of the air as the waitress latched the storm door closed.

In one motion, Grace was up from the bench, catching the bottle of water out of the air and opening it as she turned towards Rob and the rest of the biker gang. She sprayed without bias, most of the men in the room diving out of the way, screaming profanities, their bodies smoking as the holy water hit their faces. Grace dove for the duffle as I pulled out another bottle of holy water, taking over the spray. She grabbed for the shotgun, cocking it with one of her hands, and tossed me a blade with the other. I whipped out my phone and set it to speaker as I pressed 'call.' Out into the air, on speakerphone, came one of Grace's better ideas. Her voice echoed through the room as the chaos began.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," on cue, her exorcism recite began as I launched myself into action. Men were launching themselves at us; one right after another, and Grace pushed them back against the wall with a strength that I had no idea she possessed. She threw the shotgun up against her shoulder, taking aim at the demons that possessed most of the biker gang, and they chuckled at her, thinking the shotgun carried regular shells. I held my own, squirting more holy water into the crowd and keeping them at bay with my silver knife.

"What the fuck are you doing, hon?" the older biker shouted at Grace, once she had her sawed-off lifted to her shoulder. "You're gonna kill someone!"

In the background, I could hear Grace's recorded voice continue. She smiled as the men began to twitch as the woman whose purse I had knocked over earlier sneared at me. "Omnis satanixa potestas, omnis incursio infernallis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…"

Grace nodded at the older man, "That's kinda the point, Clive," she said. "These guys aren't themselves right now." She gestured to Rob, "Rob's being possessed right now."

Clive's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "What the hell are you talking about? Possessed? You sound fucking insane, Juliette!" He stepped forward, thinking he would reach for Grace's shotgun, but she turned on a heel and shook her head.

"Just wait, Clive. Wait it out." She gestured with the sawed-off and smiled again. Rob, the two couples that had been by the door and two others from his biker gang writhed and screamed at Grace's recording continued.

Rob fought the hardest, gritting his teeth and trying his best to look up at Grace from his position on the floor. "You're gonna lose this battle, sweetheart. You should have just come with me. I could have made you feel things you've never felt."

Grace kicked his hand away, "Sorry, asshat, but I'm saving myself for marriage."

"You have no idea what's coming," he growled. "Just wait until he gets up here."

I glanced at Grace, making eye contact as a thundering shake began, rattling the tiny basement windows and knocking things off of shelves in the storm cellar. The tornado on its own wouldn't be able to make the ground tremble the way this was…I moved closer to my sister as I turned up the volume on the cell phone that I held. Grace's voice continued as she backed into me, so we were back to back.

"Holy shit," she muttered, "I think this is an earthquake."

"Fucking right it is," Rob yelled, holding his head as the recorded ritual finished. "He'll be topside soon. Just wait. All of you whores will live on your knees."

"Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei."

With a final scream from each human that was being possessed by a demon, they rolled to their hands and knees and looked as though they would be sick. Black smoke columned out of their mouths, forcing itself into the cement floor below them and seeping into the cracks of the ground. Clive watched in horror as black smoke filled the floor and dissipated all around. The waitress from the bar and a busboy stood in the middle of the storm cellar and looked like they were going to pass out.

Closing her eyes, Grace lowered the sawed-off and sighed heavily. The earth below our feet stilled as the tornado passed over us, pelting the windows with hail and rain. As the roar died away, I leaned against my sister and wiped my face. "That went okay, huh?"

Grace laughed weakly and nodded. "We're all alive." She looked around and gestured to Rob, holding out her hand to help him up. "You okay?"

Clive stared from Rob to Grace and back to Rob. "What the fuck, man?"

It looked as through he would be sick, but Rob nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm alright," he ventured. Turning to Grace, he took her hand and her face went slack for a couple of seconds while he pulled himself to a standing position. "How did you know?"

I took center stage. "It's kinda what we do," I said, taking the sawed-off from my sister so she wouldn't drop it as she was wandering through Rob's subconscious. "We're monster hunters. Ya'll were possessed."

"I know," Rob nodded and rubbed his face and glanced down at Grace who had rejoined the conversation. "I can't believe that asshole is finally gone. I haven't seen my son in a month."

Clive stepped forward and stared at Rob. "What the fuck are you talking about, son?"

"It's like there was someone else fighting for my mind, Clive," he answered. "He could control my movements and my words, but I watched. I couldn't do anything." He shook his head, reliving it. "I've done things this last month…I couldn't even tell you about."

I turned in the storm cellar, staring out at the small crowd that occupied the space with us. We had saved seven people today. I grinned as I threw the blade and extra holy water into the duffle and sat on the ground, adrenaline leaving my system. I could hear Grace explaining what had happened and the fact that the entire world was in the fight of its life, but the relief flowed over me, knowing that we had somehow thrown ourselves into a den with seven demons with nothing but salt rounds and a recording and come out on top. Now that I was thinking about it, I was surprised we were still breathing. Luck, it seemed, was constantly on our side.

The element of surprise helped a bit, too.

Grace continued to calm the rest of the people down as I rested with my head in my hands, trying not to let the roar of the wind and storm get to me. She nudged me with the toe of her boot as she came to sit down near me and pressed her lips into a tight line. "We're okay down here, Lucky. It'll pass soon."

"What about Daddy and Em?"

"They're not idiots," she said, pulling her long blonde hair into a ponytail. "They'll wait it out to come and get us."

Rob was still lying across the bench. He glanced at Grace and shook his head. "Holy shit," he said, finally sighing in relief. "You're monster hunters?"

"Dude, that was like ten minutes ago," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Grace smiled and nodded and I realized what the bottom line was. She was still into him; more now that she knew a demon was no longer hitchhiking around in Rob's body. "Yeah. My whole family is."

"That's incredible."

As Rob took a breath to continue, there was a pounding on the steel door that had nothing to do with the storm. Grace and I stared at each other, waiting to answer.

"Grace!" Daddy's voice came over the wind. "Serra! Open the door!"

"Daddy!" I answered, grinning. Grace held out her hand, stopping me in my tracks.

She stood and walked to the steel door, hand on the locking bar that held the door in place. "Dad?"

"Grace, it's me."

Still, she hesitated. "New Orleans."

"Glass," he replied, almost immediately. The one-word response was correct. New Orleans was where I spent almost a week pulling glass shards from Grace's shoulder after the poltergeist attack.

She continued, "Portland."

"Family."

She glanced back, smiling and said one more city. "Lawrence," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Daddy's voice came back almost as quietly. "Home."

Pulling the bar across the door, she released the lock and Daddy and Emery spilled into the storm cellar. They both carried shotguns and bottles of holy water. Looking around, Em almost seemed disappointed in the lack of action in the room.

As soon as they stepped into the cellar, Grace took the remainder of her holy water and splashed it over Daddy and Emery. Em smiled in response, passing the last test.

"What the hell happened?" Daddy demanded as Em wrapped my sister in a hug.

Clive stood and extended his hand. "I take it you are a member of these girls' family?"

Daddy shook his hand and nodded. "They're my daughters."

"Your daughters just saved ten people's lives."

Pride swelled in Daddy's chest as he continued to shake Clive's hand. He glanced at Grace and grinned and then strode over to me, scooping me into a bear hug. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah," I answered, "Grace had it covered."

"Your name isn't Juliette?" Rob's voice came from the background. He stood and introduced himself to Daddy. "She saved me from…whatever that was. It had me." He turned and faced Grace. "She…she got it good."

"No, my name isn't Juliette," Grace said, smiling. "I'm Grace. This is my sister Serra." She released Em and pointed. "That's my dad Truman and Emery."

"Well, sir, I'd like to buy your daughter Grace, here, a drink," Rob said, shaking Daddy's hand.

Daddy's face went to stone, automatically getting possessive of my sister. His voice was low; warning, "She's not twenty-one."

"Dinner then?"

Grace rolled her eyes. Boys had always been a problem in Daddy's eyes. He had no idea (or maybe he did) how often we used them for meals and cash. "How old are you, boy?"

"I'm thirty-three, sir," Rob answered, obviously responding to the father figure in front of him.

"She's nineteen."

Rob's eyes went wide, backing away from Daddy and trying his best to stay contained at this new information. Grace stared at Dad with an icy look and I knew she would be pissed at him for blowing this one. "I would still love some dinner, Rob," she said, lifting her eyebrows, refusing to acknowledge Daddy's stony stare.

That would be a problem later.

She turned on a boot and grabbed her leather purse out of the duffel and strode out of the storm cellar, obviously heading towards the parking lot. Wanting to avoid Daddy completely, Rob backed away and headed out into the bar to follow Grace.

Em chuckled from behind me and I turned to smile as well. Daddy addressed the room: "Everyone is okay?"

There was a murmur of agreement throughout and Daddy nodded, reassured. "Just so you know, the twister touched down in the field behind the bar." He smiled lightly at Clive. "All the cars and the bikes are alright."

"Fuckin' a," Clive said, heading out into the main room. Slowly, the rest of the crowd filtered out, many of them touching me or patting me on the back in gratitude. I nodded at each of them, knowing what a pain it would be for Grace if they did the same thing when they passed her out the door. Once the storm cellar was empty, Daddy turned to me and put his hands on his hips after dropping his shotgun into the duffle bag of weapons.

"How did it go down?"

I spent about five minutes explaining to him that we never fired a shot. The holy water and the recorded exorcism was enough and the demons had simply disappeared into the ground. "Gracie's a genius," I finished, zipping up the duffle and throwing it over my shoulder. "She got them into the cellar, got me out to the car, away from them so I could call you, and then I got the idea to empty the car and bring the weapons to us."

"That was smart, kiddo," Emery said, touching my shoulder. "You protected your sister. Thought fast on your feet."

I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I mean, it's what Gracie would have done."  
"If she wasn't wasting her time making out with someone almost twice her age, she would have had what she needed to begin with." I knew Dad wasn't happy with her, but I also knew his commentary was completely inaccurate.

"That's bull, Daddy," I said. He looked up, surprised at my reaction. "Seriously. You expect us, a fifteen-year-old and an-almost-twenty year old, to come in, guns blazing, to a bar full of possessed bikers? How long do you think we would have lasted?"

"She didn't have to whore herself out to get results."

"She used what she knew would work. Observe, categorize. Manipulate, if necessary." I paused, gesturing to the bar down the hall. "You weren't here, Daddy! You sent us in alone." I gestured to the room around me. "She's a fucking saint. It was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen her do, and she handled it like a pro, without firing a shot. I'm so glad you're here to pat us on the head. 'Thanks, girls. You done good'." I mocked his voice and then turned to walk out of the door. "Maybe if you spent more time watching how she works, you'd understand her better."

Emery followed me down the hallway, wanting to stay neutral to the argument, but I knew she backed us. We got back into the main dining area and saw that Grace was already gone. I glanced out into the parking lot, but saw that her car still sat, undisturbed. "And now, because you told her she couldn't, she's gonna go out and do it more."

"Do what?"

"Rob," I answered, shrugging. "You only have yourself to blame for this one." I opened the door to the bar and walked across the parking lot towards Grace's Acura. I pulled open the trunk and threw the duffle in as Daddy followed me. He looked too angry to speak, so I continued. "Grace is different, Daddy. The more you push her into reading people and experiencing emotions and thoughts that aren't her own, the more she'll pull away from us." I looked away, anger choking me. "One of these days, she's going to break down. There's only so much she can see before she doesn't know who she is anymore."

"It doesn't mean that she needs to share someone's bed to get away from me."

I pressed my lips together and slammed the trunk. "Why not?" I shrugged, knowing I was on dangerous ground. "It's what you trained her to be."

"I didn't train her to be a whore."

"You trained her to do what she had to do." I pulled out my set of keys for the Acura and unlocked the driver's side door. Without another word, I started the engine and drove away, leaving Daddy and Emery in the parking lot.

Grace

My brain was overloaded with emotion from the adrenaline and the constant physical touch that I had been put through over the past week or so. Dad had me touching so many people over the last few months that I could hardly hear myself over the roar of the other people flying through my brain. I had no idea what other psychics went through, or even if there were any others like me, but all I knew was that being on the back of Rob's bike was the freest I have felt in months.

"You wanna get something to eat?" he had asked me once we got out of the storm cellar and into the bar. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

"My dad is right, you know. I'm only nineteen."

Rob shrugged. "Yeah, one year over legal." He smiled. "And I'm immature for my age."

I couldn't help laughing at that, grateful that he would be an easy way out of the mess I knew I was in with Dad. I nodded once and he reached for my hand. His thoughts and memories washed over me once again, but they were vacant of the turmoil from before. The demon was gone and I saw images of a little boy, a motorcycle and an apartment with very few possessions. When I looked up at Rob, his thoughts fading from my mind, he was staring at me with an interested look on his face.

"Where did you go?" he asked, his eyebrows up.

"I'm right here," I replied, embarrassed. It was getting harder to hide the fact that I glazed over at physical contact.

Rob seemed skeptical, but he continued without further questioning. He reached for the door and pushed it open, the smell of the rain still fresh in the atmosphere. Leading me to his motorcycle, he climbed on after wiping the water off the seats. I smiled, the tingle in my belly happening already, knowing that I was climbing onto a Triumph Bonneville. Dad would not approve.

I gripped Rob's hand as I climbed on, slinging my purse across my shoulders and leaning into his back. I closed my eyes as he started her up and we tore off, down the highway.

We pulled up to a truck stop diner about twenty minutes later and he swung his leg over the side and paused to help me. "I can't believe I'm finally free of that asshole," he said quietly, watching me run my hands through my hair and adjust my tank. "I thought I would have to live out the rest of my days with him rattling around inside my brain. How did you know how to do that?"

I smiled weakly. This was the last thing I wanted to be talking about. Shrugging, I said, "It's what we do. All that shit you heard about as a kid? It's all real."

"Like what?"

"Monsters," I replied simply. "They're not just stories."

He held the door for me and I walked through, smiling lightly at the hostess that was ready for us. "Monsters," he repeated quietly. "Like, what, vampires?"

Nodding, trying not to look awkward around the hostess, I spoke after she left our menus. "Yeah, vampires, werewolves, shape shifters. Ghosts." I tugged my hair back into a bun at the base of my neck and set my purse on the booth bench next to me. "Vetala, Djinn…" I could tell I lost him on the last two. "They're both monsters that drain you of your bodily fluids."

"Holy shit. You're not making this up," he said, rubbing his face.

"You asked." I leaned away from him, tilting my head.

He let his hands drop away from his face and stared at me. "Tell me about a Djinn."

"We hunted one last year," I said, seeing that he was completely serious. "Usually, they're alone, but we knew this one was part of a family group. We followed it back to a warehouse where it had set up these lines of the humans it had taken for the members of its pack. They were strung up with ropes and they would feed slowly, over a period of a couple of weeks. The special thing about Djinns, though…they have this poison that give their victims that makes them think they're living their perfect life. It's where the word 'genie' comes from…sure, I'll grant you three wishes, but then I'm gonna eat you." Rob looked horrified but completely enamored with the story, so I continued. "My sister got it cornered and my dad came up from behind, but we didn't know that there was another one, so I took me."

"Holy shit, what happened?" he asked, almost leaning across the table.

I smiled despite myself. I had never had an audience before, so I continued quietly. "It came up from behind me. They're human shaped, but blue-ish skinned with hollow needle teeth. They have designs in their skin, like fingerprints…anyway, it had me: one arm on my throat and the other across my stomach and Serra had it lined up, but couldn't get a clear shot." I leaned back to lift my shirt slightly. "This is the scar it left. The claws are the sharpest I'd ever seen." Rob leaned forward to see the four parallel scars that traveled across my hip and abdomen. "Emery came out of nowhere, took it completely by surprise and dropped it in three shots."

Rob was shaking his head. "This is completely insane," he muttered. Glancing up at me, he made a face. "Are there more hunters out there?"

Nodding, I thanked the waitress for my water and took a sip. "Yeah, hunters live all over the world, but we don't tend to live very long, so there's not as many as there should be. It's a terrible life."

"I have a son. I can't imagine any of these things coming for my boy."

Shrugging slightly, I sighed. "Sorry," I said, "but they're out there. You just have to learn the right protective markers and enchantments. I'll teach you some."

There was a long pause as we stared blankly at our menus. I could hear my phone vibrating from inside my purse and I knew it would be a member of my family, trying to track down where I was. I took it out and stared at the screen.

"You can answer, it's okay. I understand why they would want to know where you are." He shook his head. "Once I get back to my boy, I'm never leaving him again."

I made a face, pressing my lips together. "I know, but you can't live in a bubble." I got up from the booth and smiled. "I'll be right back."

Walking away, I stared at the tiny screen of my phone again, seeing my sister's phone number come up. I had a feeling it wasn't Serra, so I answered, ready for the fight.

"It's really not fair to use Serra's phone, Dad. You know I'll pick up."

Dad's voice came over the speaker, completely beside himself with anger. "You get your ass back here, Grace. We have some things to discuss."

"I'll come home when I'm good and ready to, Dad," I spat, his anger fueling my own. "You can't raise me completely independent and able to take care of myself and then expect me to be at your beck and call. I can barely think straight, let alone entertain the idea that I might have to touch someone new, looking for more demons." I took a deep, ragged breath, but was grateful when my voice was clear. "You can't boss me around anymore. Hell, Dad," I said, knowing that I was on dangerous ground as I threw myself outside, "you won't be around in a couple of weeks anyway. I might as well get used to it."

There was stunned silence over the phone as my father reeled from my blow. "How do you know?"

"Well, it wasn't confirmed until now," I gasped, bending at the waist to keep from hyperventilating.

"Grace, what you saw…you don't know what is going to happen for sure."

"Yes I do," I sobbed, "I saw it! I had a vision in the kitchen while I was doing dishes with Serra a few months back. Then about a week ago, I had another one, but it changed slightly. I know they're visions. I know it'll happen."

Dad was speechless. "Why didn't you tell me, Grace?"

"Because I already knew enough. I could figure this shit out, Dad." I sniffed, wiping my nose on the back of my hand and anger took my voice again. "I was ten when mom was taken," I grit my teeth, bent on getting out exactly what I wanted to say. "Then I see you lying to me about the fact that you 'might not always be around'," I mimicked his voice, repeating the line I had heard over and over all our lives. "You might not always be around because you made a deal. It cost Mom's and yours both, split by ten years."

"Grace—"

"You are abandoning us! Serra will be an orphan at fifteen!" I shouted, emotion taking my voice again. "How could you leave us alone? What could have been so important that you had to bargain with your lives?"

"You," Dad's voice was quiet.

I was immediately silent, my breathing controlled and my emotions ebbed. "What?"

"I promised your mother that I would keep it from you, but we didn't count on you being a damn psychic."

"Keep what from me, Dad?"

"Come home. Come home and I'll lay it all out for you."

"I'm not coming home right now," I answered quietly, feeling like it was bait. "I'm broken, Dad. I can barely hear myself think and the idea of chasing any more demons…I can't."

"You have loyalty to this family, Grace," he shot back at me. "And I caught wind of a hunt. I need you."

"I'm not going on another fucking hunt," I said, my voice dropping low and dangerous. "My brain is shot…I'm hearing everything and nothing. I don't know who I am."

"Come home."

"No." I hung up the phone and sat on the curb, hanging my head passed my knees and doing my best to keep breathing. I heard the door open and close and I knew it was Rob before he sat down next to me. He reached out to touch my hand and I pulled away, unwilling to make contact with him.

Normally, I would be apologetic, but my anger and raw emotion was still right there, under the surface. I felt like I was reeling out of control…my father would be killed in a few weeks and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I had been telling the truth when I told him that I had a second vision of his death a few weeks ago. In my mind, I decided that I would at least make sure Dad was armed before we went on whatever hunt it was when he would lose his life. At least then, he would have a fighting chance. The second vision I had accounted for this: Dad had a blade and a gun, but in the second vision I had, the demon disarmed him, knocking his gun out of his hands and used Dad's own blade to slice him across the neck.

Nothing had changed.

I took a deep breath and turned towards Rob. "I picked a weird time in my life to have dinner with you."

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked, handing me my purse.

Nodding, I was already standing and moving towards the Triumph. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

He climbed on again and I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the physical contact I would have to endure during the ride. Kicking my leg up and over the side of the bike, I wrapped my arms around his waist, careful not to touch his skin. Maybe I could make it to wherever we were headed to next without being shoved into his brain.

The wind whipped my hair as I struggled to remain calm, flying down the highway with Rob. I hadn't talked to Serra since the battle with the demons in the storm cellar and I desperately wanted to know what, if anything, Dad had told her. As I continued to think about my sister, it was almost as if I could see what she was seeing. There was music in the background as I lost myself in the thoughts and when I opened my eyes, I could see the dream catcher on her wall, the photograph of her and Mom by her bedside and the stack of books from research we had done about demons.

"Serra!" I could hear in the back of my mind, knowing it was Dad's voice.

"What?" she asked, rolling to her side on her bed.

"When your sister calls you, and I know she will, you give me that phone. I am not finished with her."

Serra was shaking her head, "Forget it, Daddy. Just let her burn it off and you'll both be over it in a couple of days."

"No," Dad answered, his voice angry as he stormed into her room. "This time, she's gone too far."

I came out of Serra's mind like cold water had been thrown on me, gasping and struggling to keep myself attached to Rob while we screamed down the highway. I had no idea what just happened to me: a vision or something else entirely, but I was convinced I was going crazy.

Rob turned off of the main road and slowed to a stop as we came to a mini-mall and a set of apartments. I glanced up and was caught off guard at the fact that we had gone into town. I was almost expecting him to take me out into a field somewhere so no one would find us.

He got off the bike and noticed that I was a little more on edge than I had been when we were in the parking lot. "Grace, you're starting to freak me out a little."

"I know, it's because I'm a freak," I said, pulling myself off the seat and standing next to him. "I can walk back to my car. Or call my sister. You don't have to put up with this shit."

Without warning, Rob leaned in to kiss me. As he made contact, I struggled to keep my outward composure as his touch sent me into his brain once more.

 _Watching black columns of smoke fill the sky as he gassed up his motorcycle._

 _Seeing his son running across the yard, chasing a cat._

 _Slamming the door as he walked out on a woman, sharing a bed with another man._

I opened my eyes, not expecting to still be touching Rob, but he was still there, leaning closer into my body, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to pull me closer. Once I was free of his thoughts, I will be the first to admit, he was a good kisser: tender and passionate, aggressive, but sensitive. I was into him.

Finally, I reciprocated, my arm finding its way up and around his shoulders. He led me towards the building in the middle, half carrying me, half escorting me, and for the first time in weeks, I found myself laughing. "Let me show you how grateful I am that you can fucking kick ass," he said, tugging me toward the stairs in the lobby of the apartment building.

We got to the second floor and he still hadn't let go of my hand and I waited eagerly to see the inside of his home. "Where is your son?"

"With my mom," he answered, "and if it wasn't so late, I would go get him now." I glanced at the clock to see that it was getting close to nine o'clock. "He would love you."

I smiled and tilted my head. Dating a thirty-three year old with a son would not be something that could be long term, but I smiled none-the-less. We made out again, breathing each other in, pawing at each other clothes and tugging at pants and shirts. He succeeded in yanking off my tank top and paused a minute to stare. Closing my eyes and bracing myself, I realized that he had lost contact with my skin and I would have to go through the mind reading process again once he regained touch. I could see that he hesitated, getting an idea that I was different.

Looking down into my eyes, he smiled gently. "Where do you go?"

"What?"

"When I touch you. You go somewhere else for a few seconds," he replied, eyeing me carefully. "Then you come back and respond to me."

I shook my head, trying to play it off. Rob was the first one that noticed as quickly as he did and I wondered momentarily if it was because he hosted a demon for a month. After having so little control over his own body, he probably learned what the signs were for when a person no longer had authority. He was almost paranoid, but for good reason.

"I, um," I began slowly, playing for time. "It might be too much to tell you about this and being a monster hunter all in one day."

"Come on," he said, kissing my neck. I was thrown back into his mind. Coming back a few seconds later, he was staring at me in the face, his hazel eyes waiting. "See?"

I rolled my eyes at him and sighed, giving up. "Fine," I said, getting ready to pull my shirt back on after he ditched me, just like Jordan did. Just as Ryan had before him. "I'm a psychic. I can read your mind when you touch me."

"I have no doubt in my mind that you are telling the truth," Rob breathed, still staring at me. "After the month I've had? I totally believe you."

"Well, that's reassuring," I replied, pursing my lips. "Now are you gonna do something, or what?"

We wasted no more time. There was a trail of clothes leading to the living room as we lost focus on trying to keep from falling off the couch and just resigned on having sex in the middle of the plush carpet. I laughed when he fumbled with the condom, so amped that he barely had any motor skills whatsoever, and every once and awhile, he lost contact with me, but then I disappeared into his mind again when he found me once more.

Laying there in the quiet, hours after, I could hear my phone vibrate on the floor where I had dropped my bag. I glanced at Rob, snoring on the floor with his arm over his face, and I padded to my purse, digging it out.

Serra's number flashed across the screen once more, but it was well passed two in the morning, so I knew it was actually my sister, not my dad trying to trick me into talking to him.

I opened the flip phone and waited for her to speak.

"Where are you?" she whispered, knowing the call had connected.

"At Rob's," I replied, turning away from the man sleeping on the floor. "How mad is he?"

Serra chuckled from the other end of the line. "He's pissed, I ain't gonna lie, but he also knows that he fucked up. About what, I still don't know."

Nodding, I took a breath as I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. "Lucky, he can't control us. Especially since that vision is hanging over our heads like a time bomb." It worried me, bringing up Dad's impending doom, considering we hadn't discussed it since the first vision I had. We were both simply to terrified to deal with what was coming.

"I know," she said, her mouth close to the receiver and creating static. "He called you a whore."

I shrugged. It wasn't the worst name I had ever been called. "Well," I started, looking into the mirror, "he's not wrong."

"He said that you told him you don't know who you are."

I could tell that I had worried my sister. Searching for the words, I shook my head. "I don't know, Luck," I said, sighing, "It's getting really hard."

"What is?"

"Existing," I replied simply. Then, I was silent, still staring at my reflection.

Serra took a deep breath, emotional. "Grace, what do we do?"

"There's not exactly a playbook for what I am, kiddo." Shaking my head and breaking eye contact with myself, I gazed into the sink instead. "I'm just trying to hold on at this point."

"You're scaring me, Gracie."

"Me too, kiddo. Me too."

After my conversation with Serendipity, I wandered back into the living room and scrounged in the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day and was almost shaking with hunger. Silently, I opened cabinet after cabinet, looking for snacks. Finally succeeding in finding a box of goldfish crackers, I ripped it open and shoved a handful into my mouth.

Walking to the fridge, I continued eating as I stared at the photos that lined the doors. Most of them were of Rob and his son, laughing and waving at the camera. There was one of his motorcycle and another of a cat and his son chasing it, just as I had seen in his mind earlier that day.

I turned around and felt the hairs on the back of my neck lift, listening to the night. I had no idea what would put me on edge in the middle of Rob's kitchen, but slowly, I moved closer to him as he slept in the middle of the carpet.

Standing silently in the middle of the apartment, I waited for whatever it was that was putting me on edge to reveal itself. Moving closer to the window, I continued to munch slowly on crackers and watched the tiny city. As I stared, it was almost as if I could feel it coming. The rumble in the back of my mind began slowly, and as I contemplated waking Rob, the rumble became a roar, then an outright scream.

"Rob," I found myself saying, touching him with a pillow from the couch. "Rob, wake up. We gotta get downstairs."

"Hi, baby," he said, groggy. "What's going on?"

"There's something coming."

"What? Another demon?"

I was shaking my head as I pulled my shorts and tank top back on. "No, something bigger. Worse."

"What can be worse than a demon?"

I tossed his pants at him as I tried to stay in the present, with the threat of another vision tugging at my brain. This wasn't something that would come from the sky, the way that demons did, this was something that was coming from the Earth itself. All I knew is that my instinct was pushing me as hard as it possibly could to get me downstairs and out of this apartment.

"Now, now. Right now," I was saying, standing next to the door. "Rob, now."

"I'm coming," he said, but hesitated in the middle of the room. "Should we go get Cole?"

I gasped as the vision hit me, my eyes blind to the apartment around me, but plunging me deep into destruction as we ran towards a Ford Explorer. The ground shook underneath us, buildings falling to rubble and people screaming as they dove for cover. It was as if the earth itself was splitting open and we struggled to stay on our feet. The whole of downtown was a shambles, fires breaking out from broken gas lines and church steeples tilting: their giant brass bells falling to the ground. My only thoughts were of Serendipity and how I needed to get to her, but having no car, I was unable to go. As I looked up at the brightening sky, I could see the shadows of the columns of smoke as they curled around the broken town, claiming it as their own.

"Grace!" Rob was shaking me, trying to get my attention through the vision. Finally, I locked eyes with him and he took a deep breath, seeing me come back. "Grace, should we go get my son first?"

I was unable to form words. My thoughts played out so quickly, there was no way I could verbalize what I was experiencing and Rob tried his best to get information out of me. "Grace, you're scaring the shit out of me. Are there more demons coming? You said it was worse. What's worse than that?"

My mouth was dry and I could barely stand. Every time Rob touched me, more thoughts flowed through my mind that weren't mine and I almost collapsed, but he caught me in time. Setting me gently on the floor, he ran to the fridge and brought me a cup of cold water. At first, he held it in front of me, but then, because I didn't respond, he tilted the cup into my mouth, forcing me to take a drink.

"Grace, should I call your sister?" He glanced at the kitchen table, where I had left my phone after talking to Serra and he strode over, flipping open the front. Hitting redial, I could hear the other end of the line begin to ring. Serra picked up almost immediately.

"What's the matter?" I could hear the concern in her voice as she answered the phone, immediately coming out of the deep sleep she probably had been in.

"Hi, it's Rob," he began uncomfortably.

"What happened to Grace?" Serra said, cutting off his line of thought. Knowing her personality, she was already up, out of bed and getting dressed.

Rob glanced at me, still sitting on the floor. "I don't really know," he started, "she froze and her eyes glazed over…She had just been trying to tell me to get up and get going. She had been panicked about something, but now she's just sitting on the floor and she won't say anything."

"How long was she gone?" Serra's voice asked, getting right to business.

"I don't know!"

She clicked her tongue, annoyed. "You don't know? Are we talking seconds or minutes?"

"About a minute!" Rob replied, defensive. "Now she's just sitting there. It's like she can't talk."

"I need an address," Serra said, heading out of her room and pounding on Daddy's door. "If she comes to, you have her call me back. I'm on my way right now." I could hear Daddy question Serra, wanting to know what the emergency was all about. Serra answered quickly and wasted no time heading downstairs to get her car keys. "She had a vision, Rob. If she comes to and tells you to do something, you do it."

"She wanted to leave really badly before she went out."

As Serendipity went downstairs, she grabbed her duffle of weapons and slung it over her shoulder. "Do you have any salt?"

Rob went to his pantry and pushed things aside, looking for the saltshaker. "Yeah, why?"

"If there are demons, you can salt the doors. I'm not talking about seasoning them. You need a salt line. A thick-ass salt line," she continued. "I don't know how much Grace told you about us, but this is kind of what we do."

"She told me."

Nodding and tossing the Chevelle's keys to Daddy, they both walked down the driveway, heading to their respective cars. "Okay, then do what I say and you'll be protected until we get there. Salt the doors and the windows and keep the lights off." She took a breath, starting the Acura. "I need an address. We're on our way."

Rob hung up my phone and made his way to each of the doors, pouring a line of salt in front of them. He moved on to the windows, as I finally was able to swallow and blink. "Where is Cole?"

"He's at my mom's upstairs. She lives on the fifth floor."

"When my sister gets here, we need to get him." I had the urge to stand and run, but I didn't think that my legs would carry me yet. "There's going to be an earthquake."

That stopped him dead in his tracks. "An earthquake?"

Nodding, I turned in place to stare out the window. "We have until the sun comes up."

"We live in Kansas," Rob began, heading back over to me. He reached out to try and touch me and I pulled away again, doing my best to stay coherent.

Shaking my head, I argued. "We're in the middle of the apocalypse," I struggled to explain. "The worst parts of the Bible. Floods, locust, famine, earthquakes." I paused to take a breath. "What I just saw is the destruction of an earthquake unlike I have ever seen. Kansas isn't prepared for an earthquake, let alone one like this, and we need to get the fuck out of this building."

Rob nodded and backed away from me as I pulled on my boots and slung my purse over my shoulder again. "Let's go get your boy." He ran around the apartment, grabbing boots, a trucker hat, his leather jacket and a cat carrier. I eyed him, "What are you doing?"

"I can't leave the cat," Rob said, looking scared. "He's Cole's cat. He would be devastated."

Nodding, I turned away from him and stared out the window. We had maybe two hours before the sun would begin to rise. My need to flee was becoming more and more desperate, knowing the earthquake would happen before daybreak. "Rob, come on!"

He pounded through the living room and was carrying another bag: obviously stuffed with toys and clothes from his son's room. "If this earthquake is going to be as big as you say it is, then Cole is going to need stuff to make him feel safe." Rob tossed me the backpack and handed me the toy bag. "Please," he pleaded, "after the year he's had?"

"Where is his mother?"

Rob continued to dart around the room, stuffing cat food and some of his own clothes into another bag. "We were married. I came home…she was in bed with another man, loaded up on who-knows-what, higher than a kite." I stared at him, feeling guilty for asking. Continuing, he hesitated long enough to stare at me. "I thought I knew her, but…" He shook his head. "Filed for divorce, got custody. Now she's in prison for possession and child endangerment. We moved here because my mom owns the building."

"Holy shit," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just keep doing your…psychic thing. Keep us safe."

Gesturing to the door, I yanked it open. "Well, quit packing and let's go. I want to pull the fire alarm when we leave to get the rest of the people out."

He left me next to the bags in the lobby as he went back upstairs for his son and his mother. I waited as patiently as I could and did everything I could not to take off running. A few minutes later, Rob appeared again, holding his sleeping son, with an older woman in tow. I held open the lobby's door and Rob made a beeline for the Ford Explorer that was parked out front. He loaded Cole into the car seat in the back of the truck and came back to help me load the bags and the cat.

As I was about to go back into the building to pull the fire alarm, I could hear the low rumble of my dad's 1971 Chevy. Turning, I saw that Serra was in the back seat, looking ready to kick ass, and Emery was in the passenger seat, next to a still-very-pissed-off Dad.

They screeched to a stop and Em jumped out, her arms extended to hug me, but for the first time in my life, I pulled away from her. Lucky climbed out of the back, watching me cautiously, and was careful not to touch me, especially after how she saw me react with Emery.

"What's going on, Grace?" Dad yelled as he climbed out of the car.

"I had a vision," I said, staying planted where I was. "There's gonna be an earthquake. A big one." I glanced at Serra, knowing that she was nervous. Earthquakes were right up there with tornados for her: unpredictable and hard to defend against. "We need to get out of this town."

"What do you mean you had a vision?" Emery asked, moving closer. She was confused and moved closer to me, still desiring contact. "A full blown vision? While you were awake?"

I nodded, gesturing to the car. "Yeah, but can I explain as we drive away?"

"How long have you been having visions while you're awake?"

"Em, come on, let's go. I'll tell you in the car." As I stepped towards the car, I began to hear it. The low roar, almost the same sound as the tornado from yesterday. We all froze, each of us pausing to listen. "Oh, shit," I said, taking a deep breath.

Dad lunged at us, yanking both Serra and I to the ground and pushing us against the Chevelle. As the shaking began, Serra squeezed her eyes closed and held on to the edge of my tank top, trying to be close to me, but knowing I didn't want to be touched. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rob slam the door to the Explorer closed to keep Cole as safe as he could as he dove for the sidewalk as well, away from the building. Grabbing his mother's arm, he dragged her to the other side of the car and stared at me.

"Is this it, Grace?"

I nodded, gritting my teeth. The ground rose and fell beneath our bodies, at times we seemed to be leaving the sidewalk entirely. There were already cracks forming in the cement and the hydrant at the end of the street shot into the air, water filling the sky. Car alarms went off at random, windows exploded out of the mini-mall to our left and in the distance; I could hear the church's steeple bell ringing incessantly.

The shaking wasn't what worried me. It was the destruction of the buildings around us that gave me pause. I knew that if my vision held truth, that the fire escape on Rob's apartment building would soon fall and there would be a fire at the gas station across the street by the time the shaking stopped. The bell in the steeple would come tumbling down and there would be a canyon down the main street, swallowing at least three cars. Then, they would come.

I glanced at my sister, who had her auburn eyes squeezed shut and saw that she was wearing her protective silver charm bracelet and I knew that Emery and Dad both wore their own protective sigils. I, alone, was unprotected from the demons that would circle us, looking for new hosts to house the black columns of smoke. Rob and his family were missing the protective markings as well, but honestly, I didn't remember them as part of my vision. Maybe things had changed because I had given warning. Rob had time to pack, but not enough time to drive away. I had no idea the future that was written for him.

Seconds turned into minutes and the shaking was relentless. I heard the bell from the church hit the pavement and the telltale whoosh of a large fire being ignited. The apartment building creaked with stress from being lifted from its foundation and I turned to cover Serra with my body as the fire escape finally gave way, falling to the street, crushing the small Toyota behind the building.

The shaking had not finished entirely…it still felt as if there was a movement to the pavement as I was tugging Rob to his feet and shoving him into the Explorer. "Get up. Move!" I was yelling. "They're coming. They go for you first."

"What? What's coming?"

"The demons. They're coming now. You need to run," I gasped as I slammed the door on him, and threw his mother into the back seat next to Cole. "Salt line the doors and as soon as you find a place to stay. Don't stop until you need gas. Go north."

"Grace," he began, staring out into town, seeing the destruction before him.

"Go." I threw a balled up piece of paper into the car and pointed at it. "My number is on that, along with a protective sigil that you either need tattooed or to draw it on everyone you care about, exactly as I have it. It'll keep you from getting possessed."

He started the motor as the shaking finally slowed. Throwing me one last look, he took a breath. "Thank you."

"Go. Now."

Peeling rubber, he drove away, towards the tree line. I turned towards my family and went directly to the trunk of the Chevelle. "Get ready," I said, setting my jaw, "they're coming."

Tossing my sister a sawed off shotgun loaded with salt rounds, I chanced a glance at Dad and Emery. They were both floored by what was happening, and honestly, I was a little nervous about what they were thinking.

Dad spoke first, stepping towards the Chevelle's open trunk. "What's coming?"

"Demons. More than we have ever dealt with before."

"You saw all of this in a vision?"

Nodding once, I looked away, unwilling to see the judgment in my father's eyes. I grabbed a bag of salt and slit it once with the blade I carried. Pointing, I said, "Up against the building." Pouring salt in a wide half circle, we got ready to make a stand against the black smoke that I knew was on its way.

"Grace," Dad began quietly. "I'm…"

I was shaking my head. "Don't."

Serra cocked the shotgun that she held and lifted her eyebrows apologetically for ruining the mood. "How many are we talking, Grace?"

"Dozens, maybe more."

"Shouldn't we be running?" Serra asked, "I mean, I know what our usual M-O is, but…earthquakes and dozens of demons?" She tilted her head. "Is that something that we really want to try dealing with?"

I glanced at Dad and he nodded towards the sky. "It's too late for running," he muttered. "Get ready girls."

"Serra," I whispered. "Phone." I held out my hand and she gave her cell phone to me, no questions asked. I flipped it open and we backed up to the apartment wall and prepared ourselves for the worst.

Dad fired first, sending a salt round into the sky and dissipating a demon as it soared passed us. Serra was right behind, unleashing round after round into the sky above us. There were people beginning to come down, out of the apartment building behind us, struggling to stand. They were dressed in pajamas, barely coherent after the earthquake that rattled their entire lives. Columns of smoke darted all over the town, trying to get close enough to the people that they dive-bombed to take them as a host. Emery shouted at them, trying to tell the apartment dwellers to get back, but no one would listen to us.

Pushing 'send' on Serra's phone's keypad, I waited for my voicemail message to begin playing. I knew I would be pressing my luck, trying the exorcism twice in a twenty-four hour period, but I had to try. Looking around, I knew the demons were too far away. They weren't in range of the tiny speaker.

I heard Serra swear under her breath. She was out of shots already and she dumped the ammo box at her feet in order to reload. The demons swooped closer and closer, but were pushed away by the tiny, protective enchantments each of my family was wearing. The salt line threatened to blow away, but there wasn't enough wind this early in the morning to send in our direction. Emery and Serendipity were sawed off queens, both having to reload again, but I felt helpless: my brain was still putty after the turmoil I experienced over the last twenty-four hours, not to mention the last few months of Dad forcing me to read people through touch.

A column of black smoke edged closer to the salt line and brushed passed the apartment building close enough to bring an exposed brick down from two floors above us, aiming for Serra. She hadn't noticed, still firing in rapid succession at the demons all around us. I yelled out, seeing it fall, but I was too late. The corner of the brick hit the back of her head and she was knocked out immediately.

"Serra!" I cried, bending to her side as Dad picked up her shotgun and continued to fire. Em glanced at her as well, her face red with exertion.

"Is she breathing?" Em yelled over the shotgun blasts.

"I think so!" I screamed back, tears coming to my eyes as the demons continued to be relentless. Another pushed at the salt line, getting closer to my face. Seeing my baby sister on the ground, her scalp bleeding, I could feel myself coming apart, my emotions at the surface, raw and exposed, as we fought for our lives.

Dad glanced at me, his eyes going wide, seeing something I couldn't see as I stood up to my full height and tears streamed down my face. I had no idea what I was about to do, but Dad touched my arm and I lost all control.

"Stop. Touching. Me." I growled, and closing my eyes, I felt a fire burn from within my core, its warmth crawling up the inside of my ribcage and searing my throat as I closed my eyes. There was a flash of light and I felt myself be pushed backwards against the apartment building, like a shockwave. The entire street burned with a white light, sending the remaining demons back to the sky and disappearing as the light dimmed.

I gasped as I struggled to stand and the last thing I saw was Dad and Emery's concerned faces as I collapsed.

"Did you see her eyes?" Dad was asking Emery as I began to find my way back to consciousness. "They glowed, Em. Just like Evangeline's when Lucia took her."

"What does this mean, Tru?" Em's quiet voice inquired. "Does this mean she's like them?"

"I don't know," he whispered, "but her shadow when she lit up the sky…did you see them, there against the building?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to believe it, but I saw them."

I opened my eyes and struggled to sit up, but Emery held me in place, gently laying her hand on my shoulder. "Stay put, hon. I'm pretty sure a couple of your ribs are broken."

Realizing that I wasn't seeing Emery's thoughts upon her touch, I looked down to my shoulder and saw that she had placed a towel there to mop up the blood from my arm. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "Everything hurts."

"I would imagine so," she answered. "You fought them off with the best of them."

I struggled to piece together what had happened before I had gotten knocked out. I remembered seeing the brick falling from the wall and hitting Serra, but I couldn't piece together anything else. I turned, too quickly, pain seared up my back, but saw Serra sitting up against the apartment building, holding a towel to the back of her head.

"Hey there, big sister," she murmured, "you okay?"

"I don't know," I said, attempting to shrug. "You?"

She nodded a bit and attempted to smile. "We're alive."

"Always a bonus," I said laying back on the cement and closing my eyes.

I had never felt so useless. Emery and Dad had carried me back to the Chevelle, almost laying me in the back seat because my legs refused to work. Serra sat in the back seat with me, letting me rest my head on her lap as we drove home. It hadn't even occurred to me where the demons had gone, nor did it matter what happened after I passed out.

The ride back to the house was silent, each of us trapped in our own thoughts, but the problem was that the entire car seemed to be buzzing, like the static on the radio was turned up to full volume. I had to force myself to close my eyes, tears seeping from them since I had woken up. I tried to push myself into sleep, but every once and awhile, the car would jostle and I would accidentally make physical contact with Serra and I was tossed back into her subconscious.

Eventually, she understood what I was trying to do and put her hand on my face, making steady contact and she released me into unconsciousness.

I woke up in my bed hours later, my entire body still sore from our battle with the demons. I had no memory of what had happened to me but I struggled to get up from bed and meander my way back to the kitchen.

Moving slowly, I did my best not to bend my arms or bend at the waist. I knew that Dad didn't take me to the hospital because they would have been overrun with injuries from the earthquake anyway and there was nothing life threatening about my broken ribs. It wasn't the first time I had broken a bone, and considering our lifestyle, it wouldn't be my last.

I approached the kitchen quietly, wondering if I would be entering a conversation that didn't include me. Sometimes I would, coming into the kitchen too quickly, and Em and Dad's dialogue would cease immediately. Their voices were hushed, taking turns going through their discussion quickly, hoping they would finish before either me or Serra woke up.

"Let it go, Tru. These girls are going to be out another parent in a couple of weeks. The least you could do is make peace with your eldest before it's too late." Emery's voice was angry, but quiet. "She is only nineteen. She's rebelling."

"I don't care what she's doing," Dad's voice came back, just as angry, but just as hushed. "I didn't raise her to be promiscuous. She knows better."

"What is the bigger problem, here?" Em asked, slamming her hand on the table. I leaned closer to the door. Even though she was angry, she was still speaking in a forced whisper. "The fact that she's sexually active or the fact that you can't control her?"

"Oh Jesus, Em, don't say shit like that. It makes my skin crawl."

She must have rolled her eyes because there was a slight hesitation before she continued. "Get a grip, Tru. She's a woman. You can't stop her from having boyfriends. You can't stop her from having sex." She paused and took another breath, "What you need to be concerned about is the fact that her abilities have evolved. What are you going to do to prepare her for what's coming? What's going to happen to her when you're not here to explain why she's different?"

I could hear the TV in the background: the news was spitting out facts about Kansas' first earthquake over a magnitude 5.5 on the Richter scale. It had measured as a 9.6 and there were still tremors popping up all over the United States. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. The earthquakes were causing tsunamis all over the world and they were creating widespread panic. It was the end of the world, according to most major religions, and there was no way for any of us to stop it.

Losing my nerve about confronting my dad yet again, I backed away slowly and retreated back upstairs, hesitating before deciding to check on Serra. I approached her door and knocked lightly once, just enough to get her attention. "Yeah?" came her tired voice, obviously concussed.

I opened the door and walked in gingerly, trying my hand at sitting on the edge of her bed. I stared at her and finally said, "You should be sitting up so you don't fall asleep."

"I don't know," she said groggily. "If I slip into a coma and die, at least I can avoid the end of the world."

We both stared at the TV in Serra's room, watching the horror unfold as images and video flashed across the screen, showing the devastation and turmoil that the earthquakes were creating. In the background of one of the videos, there were columns of black smoke snaking their way through the sky. People screamed as they ran away from them and I closed my eyes, refusing to watch anymore. Serra pointed the remote at the TV and shut it off, sighing after she lowered her hand.

"It's out in the world, now," Serra said quietly. "There's no invisible line between civilians and hunters." She turned to me and shrugged. "This is it, right? We're gonna die?"

I stared at my sister, my thoughts battling between being scared and angry. Finally, I took a deep breath and shook my head. "I don't know, kiddo."

She looked as though she wanted to take my hand, but hesitated, knowing how much I struggled to make sense of my own thoughts here of late. We simply stared at my hand, still untouched, resting on Serra's blanket.

"Dad and Emery are downstairs talking about you," she said, shifting subjects. "What did you do after I got knocked out?"

It hurt to shrug, so I stayed still but glanced up at my sister's battered face. "I don't remember," I began, adjusting my position on the bed. "I remember Dad reaching out to touch me and I wanted to pull away. I remember the demons circling around us. I remember you getting hit with the brick." Slowly, I stood back up. Sitting hurt too much. "After that, it all goes black."

Serra watched me as I began a slow pace around her room. "What are we going to do, Gracie?"

I knew she had changed subjects again, moving on to Dad's ill-timed demise. "Serra, I don't know, but we can't freak about this. We have to hold it together."

"Grace, Daddy is going to die. What are we going to do? We have to change something. Maybe it doesn't have to go down like you said it would." She was swinging her feet off the edge of the bed and I was holding up my hand, trying to slow down her thought process. "Maybe we can still save him."

"He made a deal, Serra," I said, completely deadpan. "The demon will come for him, one way or another. There's nothing we can do."

"So you're just going to roll over on it? Just let it happen?"

"What can I do, Serendipity? I'm not going to risk your life, or even my life to try and save him, considering he made a deal with a Crossroads! There's nothing we can do to stop it, unless we make deals of our own." She locked eyes with me and I was already shaking my head. "I swear to fucking God, Serendipity Adeline, if you ever," I crossed the room in three steps, pointing my finger directly into her face and dropped my voice an octave, " _ever_ let it pass through your brain again as a possibility, I will hunt you down and kill you myself."

I had never shown such anger towards my sister and the look in her eyes told me that I could be just as horrifying to her as I could be when we hunted monsters. She nodded slowly, knowing I was completely serious. I would rather see her dead than in the hands of a Crossroads Demon.

Serra

Grace is terrifying when she wants to be. I watched her stride through the room again, heading to the door, and I stayed silent, knowing that I had crossed a line, just thinking about it. She closed the door behind her without another word and I was left alone with my thoughts, knowing that I would be alone with my sister and Emery in only a few weeks.

Tears came to my eyes, knowing that my father would die and there was nothing we could do—nothing that Grace was _willing_ to do in order to save him. I would never dream of attempting to contact a Crossroads Demon, especially after Grace's threat, but I knew that was the only way I would be able to save my dad.

I walked over to the stack of books on demons that I had in the corner, too lazy to return them to the local library where Emery had worked not too long ago. Flipping through one of the older ones, I came to a page about "Deals with the Devil" and hesitated on a paragraph.

I read the paragraph quickly, almost feeling like Grace was listening to my thoughts. _Deals with the Devil are usually made at a Crossroads. Desperation is typically a last resort for making a Deal and only those with no other choice besides a gruesome death should consider the possibility._

If making a deal was something that was considered a last resort, what is it that Daddy had no choice about? What did he protect with his soul? What would be worth that?

My eyes returned to the page, trying to move through the language quickly, but reading had never been my strong suit. I stumbled on the words and tried my best to keep an ear open for Grace, should she decide to come barreling through my bedroom door again. _A common misinterpretation is that a Deal is made directly with the Devil himself, in actuality, a Crossroads Deal is made only with a Crossroads Demon and it can be summoned through extensive spell work and the correct ingredients. See fig. 245 for correct Latin and ingredients list._

Slamming the book shut, I closed my eyes and did my best to ignore figure two hundred, forty-five. There had to be another way to save Daddy.

Standing carefully, I walked to my door and opened it, listening for the rest of my family. I could hear the news on downstairs as well, and considering the world was in the fight of its life, Em would probably keep it on, just to hear the latest updates about our impending doom.

I made my way downstairs and pushed the door to the kitchen open. Emery was stirring a pot of soup and Daddy was sitting at the kitchen table, entranced by the media. "She's alive," Em said quietly, smiling at me. "How's your head?"

Shrugging, I answered, "I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion."

"Most likely," Daddy agreed from his place at the table. He was loading more salt rounds as he sat and watched the news, lining finished ones up in ammo boxes for the next assault he was planning.

I stared at him and still struggled with the questions rattling through my mind. Why had he made the deal? What had been so important to him that he had no other choice besides selling his soul?

"You hungry, honey?" Emery's voice broke through my thoughts and I whipped around to face her.

"Yeah," I said, trying to calm myself down. I was on edge; worried that everyone in the room was a psychic. "Yeah, soup sounds good."

She dished me a bowl and I followed Daddy's line of sight at the television. The news anchor was continuing with her story about the fires in downtown Lawrence, near the university where Grace wanted to go for her teaching degrees. As I picked up my spoon, Grace walked into the kitchen with us as well, bee-lining as quickly as her bruised and battered body would go for a glass from the sink. Emery and Daddy stared at her, remaining silent as she moved.

"The soup is good, Em," I said, trying to break the silence. "Gracie, you should have some soup." She turned and stared at me, emotionless, and I made a face, realizing my mistake. She would have been perfectly content to come in for her water and leave without acknowledgment.

Daddy took a breath and gestured to the table. "Grace, sit down. Let's talk this out."

"What is there to talk out, Dad?"

He took a deep breath though his nose, pressing his lips together; making a face that was so similar to Grace it was almost comical. I refused to laugh, though; worried about Grace flipping the table and spilling hot soup all over me.

"We need to talk about this fang hunt I caught wind of," he said, holding out a newspaper article.

"What?" Grace and I said together, completely caught off guard by his change in subject.

Emery ignored us completely, still dishing soup and humming tunelessly to herself. I stared at Dad from across the table and tilted my head.

Grace spoke first, moving closer to the kitchen table, holding her side and making a face. "Are you kidding me? We just had a nine point six earthquake. We're in the middle of the apocalypse." She looked around and gestured at the TV behind her. "An earthquake that I predicted, by the way. These visions are getting more frequent, more accurate, and more intense. Are we just going to ignore what's happening to me? Or what's about to happen to you?"

I moved my eyes to Daddy's face, waiting for his response like a tennis match. Em had even turned away from the stove, turning the heat off of her soup and putting on the lid. She held her wooden spoon as she crossed her arms, waiting for Daddy to answer.

"That's not important right now," Daddy finally said. "Protecting civilians, that's what matters."

"Protecting civilians," Grace repeated, nodding slowly. "Right."

She made the move to walk out of the kitchen, but Dad's voice rang out, stopping her, mid-step. "Grace Evangeline," he began, "this is our job. We protect people from what they don't understand."

"No, your job is to protect _us_ ," Grace snarled, using both hands to indicate the both of us. She pointed to the television once again and her voice rose, letting emotion take over. "We're in the middle of the end of the world, and you're worried about a few bloodsuckers?" She shook her head. "We're your _daughters_. You're abandoning us over something that happened years ago, that you won't even talk about." Grace seemed to be trembling and I could tell that Emery was nervous about the emotion she was showing. "If you don't want to talk about it, Dad, fine, but I am not going to be a part of this anymore. I'm too exhausted. The world is too loud and I'm tired of you shoving me into it." She walked to the swinging door of the kitchen and hesitated, "Serra, I'm not going to tell you not to go, but just know, little sister, that I won't be there to back your play."

The slightest head nod from me was enough to acknowledge Grace's threat. She disappeared through the swinging door and a deafening silence fell around us like a cloak in the kitchen.

It was as if Grace hadn't just made a historic declaration of independence. Daddy pulled out the rest of the newspaper articles about the recent vampire attacks (the newspapers called them 'animal attacks') and poured over them, studying them without another word.

In the days that followed, my head wound healed enough that Daddy felt comfortable enough taking me on the road with him. We loaded up the Chevelle and with a passing glance at Grace's window, I got into the front passenger seat with Dad and he took off, peeling out down the street and heading for the highway.

Grace watched from the window and tried unsuccessfully taking a deep breath. Her ribs still hadn't finished healing, but after the Chevelle drove away, she glanced at her duffle in the corner of the room with the Winchester long rifle with accompanying long-range scope lying across it.

She counted to fifty, closed the window and bent carefully to pick up her bag and the gun case carrying the rifle. Her chest and abdomen screamed in pain, the pressure on her broken ribs was almost too much for her, but she took another breath and headed downstairs.

Emery was at the base of the steps, almost waiting for her. "Where are you going, Grace?"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me, kiddo." Emery took the bag and the rifle from Grace's grip and held them, giving her a chance to take a breath without the ache.

Grace rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. "Either help me load up my car or leave me alone, Em."

"You're following your dad and sister on that hunt, aren't you?" she asked, ignoring her sentence.

"If I say no, will you leave me alone?"

Emery turned and opened the front door, walking down the driveway towards Grace's Acura. She popped the trunk and threw the duffle in, setting the rifle on top and slamming the lid back down. "You protect your sister, do you hear me?" Emery paused and shook her head. "I know you don't want anyone touching you these days, and I really think you should be in bed, concentrating on healing, but I know how you Brownings work."

"And how is that?"

She smiled gently, tilting her head. "Family comes first, no matter what else is happening, you have a loyalty and I'm glad that it's one thing your daddy did right." She opened the driver's door for Grace and handed her the keys, making sure not to touch her. "Promise me something, sweetheart."

Staring at Emery, Grace blinked once, waiting.

"You keep Serendipity safe," she replied. Grace nodded once and carefully lowered herself into the car. Slamming the door shut, Emery leaned in through the window, taking a breath to speak once more. "And when you just have to give in to those hormones, or need something so desperately that you're willing to work your body for it?" Grace stared at her, deadpan, waiting. "Please, for the love of all that's holy," Em smiled. "Use protection."

Grace

I drove for hours, knowing Dad would go as far as he could without stopping to the vampire hunt in Ashland, Montana. I guessed it would be about a fourteen-hour drive, but that was if Serra didn't have a meltdown about not having any food. I normally packed her snacks because, honestly, she was like a baby…couldn't go more than four hours or so without having something to eat. I knew Dad wouldn't pack like that and I could only picture how ugly that car ride would get if he didn't find her something to eat.

Guessing that Dad would get off in Sioux Falls, South Dakota for dinner, I continued the journey, knowing I could last longer than Serra could when it came to eating. I was bent on driving the ten hours to Rapid City, South Dakota before stopping, then I would probably call my sister and see where they were, just to double check.

Serra

I was starving. I glanced to the back seat of the Chevelle as Daddy drove in silence and pawed at the duffels that he had thrown back there. "Did you pack any snacks?" I asked, turning around and unzipping the top duffel bag.

"No," he said. "You're a big girl. I think you can handle not eating every four and a half hours." Daddy eyed me, making a sarcastic face. "Grace has you spoiled."

Plopping back into the seat and putting my seatbelt back on, I rolled my eyes. "I hardly think eating regularly is being spoiled, Dad."

"A hunter doesn't always have the chance to eat," he replied, not missing a beat. "You know that. That's how it's always been."

I shook my head gently, trying not to get into an argument with him. "Gracie always has food."

"Grace ain't here."

We drove in silence after that, his anger bubbling just below the surface. I did my best to ignore the rumble in my stomach and stared out the window as the Midwest plains blurred by. I fell into deep thought about Grace and how much things had changed in such a short amount of time. Her abilities had evolved so much in the last few weeks that I was starting to wonder if being a psychic was all she was. I mean, how many genuine psychics do you ever even meet? We had only ever interacted with one and she was the real deal, but she didn't have to touch you to find out the truth.

Missouri Moseley was a psychic back home in Lawrence and all she had to do was be near you to figure out the truth. Dad used her once or twice to try and connect with Mom, but the entire meeting turned into a discussion about Grace. I was too young to remember all the details, but I do remember the back and forth between Missouri and Daddy.

"How long are you gonna go before you tell your girls the truth?" Missouri leaned forward to touch Daddy as I colored the coloring book that I had in front of me. I glanced at Grace who seemed to be immersed in her Walkman and a magazine and had no idea that the psychic lady and Daddy were talking about us.

Daddy was shaking his head and holding up his hand. He glanced back at me and smiled reassuringly. Leaning back towards Missouri and whispering, I could still hear him as he continued, "I don't even know how to bring it up. How bad will it get? Will she be okay?"

Missouri sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "Oh, she'll be fine, Truman, she's a good girl, but she's got a destiny ahead of her, that's for sure."

"What destiny?"

The psychic moved slightly to see me looking up at the table where they sat. "That's a conversation for our ears, not hers." She smiled at me as I looked back down at the Transformers I was coloring. "But that destiny does not involve you, or your lady."

Daddy seemed confused. "What do you mean?"

"You would only get in the way, Truman. Emery, too." Missouri sighed and leaned back, touching her face lightly as she closed her eyes again. "She needs to be on her own. They both do."

"Alone, without us," Daddy repeated. He hardly breathed, "But they can be together?"

"Oh, honey, they'll have to be to survive."

I shook my head, coming out of the memory and watched a sign for Sioux Falls blur past us as we flew down the highway. "Daddy, there's food in Sioux Falls. Please?"

He sighed heavily and looked down at his dash panel, checking the gas tank. Making a show of rolling his eyes to give consent, he turned to glance at me. "Fine," he said, sighing heavily. "I'll get gas, you go find some food." Pulling open the ashtray, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. "Get stuff we can snack on for awhile. Don't go blowing it all on burgers and fries."

Nodding, I took it as we got off the highway and headed to the oasis. As soon as he had the Chevelle in park, I was launching myself out of the car and heading to the 7-11 across the street. Almost running, I went up and down the aisles, tossing trail mix, banana chips, beef jerky and water bottles into the basket I carried. I grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a package of white bread on the way to the checker and set the basket down triumphantly.

"Anything else I can get for you?" he asked, beginning to punch in the items to the register.

"Depends on how much I spend," I answered, smiling. I watched the number climb higher and almost jumped for joy when the total was only ten dollars. "Yeah, hold on!" I said; skipping away from the counter and grabbing a bag of chips, another bag of beef jerky and a bag of M&Ms. He punched the new items into the register and the total ended up at eighteen dollars and forty-four cents. I grinned, handing him the twenty. "I'll take a scratcher, too."

Glancing up at me, he tilted his head. "How old are you?"

"Oh, it's not for me," I said, pointing. "My dad is out there. He wants it."

The cashier followed my line of sight and shrugged. "Nineteen forty-four," he said, holding out his hand. I gave him the twenty and waited for my change and the Scratcher. Pocketing the coins and grabbing the bags, I headed back out to Daddy as he was starting up the car and waiting for me.

Ripping open the beef jerky bag, I held out a piece to him and smiled, with a piece of my own hanging out of my mouth. He accepted the piece and pulled back onto the freeway and we were thrown back into silence again as we drove.

After finishing my snack, I knew I fell asleep, because the next thing I knew, we were pulling into Rapid City, South Dakota and my phone was vibrating in my pocket. The pocket of my jeans was smaller than most and I had to torque a bit to tug my phone out. I saw Grace's number flash across the screen and felt anxiety creep up my spine.

Glancing at Daddy, I made a face, not really knowing how this conversation would go with him sitting in the car right next to me.

"Is it your sister?" he asked quietly.

I nodded.

"Well, answer it. You don't want her thinking that you're dead."

I pursed my lips and answered, "Hi, Gracie."

"Where are you?"

Sitting up in my seat, I rubbed the back of my neck. I was stiff from my place in the car after ten hours. "I just saw a sign that said we were in Rapid City."

Grace was silent for about three seconds while she registered where we were on the map. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Are you going to drive straight through?"

"Are we driving straight through, Daddy?" I asked, holding the phone lower on my face.

He glanced back down at the odometer. "We're gonna stop for gas again here, pretty soon and probably get some grub." Daddy smiled sweetly. "Can't go all night without feeding my girl."

I smiled back at him, knowing in the back of my mind that it was a jab at Grace, not actual concern for me. I knew Daddy loved me and that I was probably his favorite, but when Grace and Daddy fought, they fought dirty. "Did you hear that?"

"Of course I heard that. He's being a real jerk, you know."

I sighed. I hated being in the middle of the fight and there was nothing I could say to my sister right now that would be comforting, especially while sitting next to our father.

"What are you doing right now?" I asked, attempting to change subjects completely.

Grace seemed to hesitate in the slightest before she answered, "Cleaning my room, putting laundry away. Just the regular shit."

"How are your ribs?"

"Same," she replied. "Hurts to move, but I'm fine."

There was open air space for about thirty seconds as we tried to figure out what to say to each other while Daddy sat next to me. It was rare that I was awkward around my big sister, but trying to pull a conversation out of the icy air was challenging.

"Call me when you get there, will you? Fangs make me nervous."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"And don't take any shit from Dad."

"Okay."

Grace took a deep breath. "Just remember that vamps move faster than you do. Shoot faster than you think you should and lead the target." She sniffled slightly and I couldn't tell if it was emotional or seasonal. "Silver headshots, kiddo. Those .45s need to be loaded with silver, you hear me?"

"Yeah," I repeated, holding the phone close to my face.

"Okay," she said, slowing our exchange.

"Okay," I said again.

"Don't you let them bite you."

I cracked a smile, "I won't." Hanging up the phone, I shoved it back into my pocket and glanced at Daddy. "Where are we eating?"

Grace

I was an hour ahead of them. Not only was I driving exceedingly fast, but I had tapped into my emergency tank of gas, just so I wouldn't have to stop to fill up. Now that I knew I was so far ahead, I could afford to pull off the road and fill up both tanks and grab some food. I hadn't eaten since this morning and I was a little light headed.

At the gas station, there was a tiny earthquake and I felt myself tense and look around for demons, purely out of habit. The earthquakes had been happening on such a regular basis now, it was hard to count how many we had since the nine-point-six we had in Lawrence. Rob was long gone and I hadn't heard from him since that day. It didn't really surprise me. We had been through a terrifying experience and he hadn't seen his son in the month previous because he had been possessed with a demon. That would take some explaining.

The gas pump clicked as it finished filling my second tank of gas and I put it back and closed the top of the emergency tank from under the back seat and pushed the cushion back into place. Glancing around, I could see a variety of fast food, but really I wasn't hungry. I hadn't peed in awhile, either, so I used the restroom and then I headed into the mini-mart at the gas station and bought a bag of trail mix and a jar of peanut butter.

"Could I get a scratcher, too?" I asked the clerk. He nodded and ripped one off, my grand total coming to five dollars even. I handed him the cash and walked back to my car, heading back to the highway.

Serra

"We get to have dinner here?" I asked, approaching the bar-be-que joint with trepidation. "What's the occasion?"

Daddy shrugged and held open the door. "Just want to spend some time with my youngest daughter. My little Lady Luck."

I grinned at his age-old nickname for me and walked through the door, brushing the dust off my boots on the mat as I walked in. "Table for two?" the host asked, gesturing to Daddy and I.

Nodding, I followed as he led us to a booth in the back of the restaurant. We sat and he gave us menus and walked off, promising water upon his return.

"Seriously, Daddy, what gives?" I demanded as soon as the host left the table. "We've never, ever, stopped for a nice meal before a hunt. This isn't just about Grace."

Daddy laid the menu down and stared at me under the dim lights of the restaurant. "No, this isn't about Grace…but it is." He shook his head, trying his best to get the words to organize in his head. "Your sister is a very complicated and special person and I love her dearly for it." He took a deep, steadying breath. "This fight we're having? Her breakdown? It's all my fault."

"Then why don't you just tell her?"

"Because it'll make the next few weeks that much easier for her to deal with, Serra." He stared down at his menu, not reading any of it. "When I'm gone, she's…she's going to change, kiddo. You need to be ready for it."

"Change? Change how?"

Daddy shook his head, "That's not the important part. What's important is that you girls are together and you stay together. You're family and you need each other."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I'm serious, Serendipity. When I'm gone, you stay by your sister's side, no matter what."

"You keep talking about dying like it's no big deal, like it's not going to matter," I said, suddenly angry. "It matters to us. You're just leaving us. You're not even trying to fight it."

"There's nothing to fight, Serra. Making a deal is exactly that: and I've made my peace with it."

Closing my eyes to fight the burn that seared them, I found myself shaking my head again. "Made your peace with being killed by a demon. Awesome."

Dad was shaking his head and touching my hands, trying to comfort me. "Focus on what I'm telling you, Luck: You and Grace. That's what matters. That's always been the only thing that matters."

The waiter came by and set water down on the table, smiling at the both of us. "Hi folks," he said. "Welcome to Slim Pickins'," I tried not to laugh, despite the situation. "Have we decided?"

"Just a cheeseburger for me," Daddy replied, handing the waiter a menu.

"Great," he said, "Fries? Onion rings?"

"Fries are fine." They both turned to look at me expectantly.

I stared back at the menu; the other side of my brain was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that my father was talking about his death like it was no big deal. "Um, yeah, just a burger and some mac and cheese," I finally answered, handing the menu over. "And a diet coke."

"Sounds good," the waiter responded, taking the menu. "Be just a few minutes."

Grace

I was bored. Waiting for Serra and Dad to catch up was lame. I sat in the parking lot of an old, dilapidated pool hall, watching the crows circle above me and I sighed. The last time I checked in with Serra, she texted me saying that they were eating dinner at some hamburger joint and that Dad was making light of his impending death, as per usual.

Glancing at the door of the bar, I decided right then and there that I wanted some action before I watched the hunt from afar. Grabbing my keys, about a hundred bucks in cash and my phone, I headed into the restaurant.

It was dingy and smoky inside, with men scattered at booths and tables and chairs, watching each other waste away. There were a few at the bar, under the harsh overhead lights, drinking different variations of brown liquor. It smelled like life had gone awry.

The men all seemed to turn towards me as I made my way to the bar and sat at the first stool that I came to. I was prey in a den full of predators. It was a good think I was always packing these days.

"What'll you have?" the bartender came up to me with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Jack and Coke," I replied quietly. I held the bartender's gaze as he raised his eyebrows and nodded, approvingly. Apparently, I had just passed some sort of test.

Sitting and drinking from my rather dirty glass, I turned around to look at my audience. They all tried to appear like they weren't watching me, but I knew the feeling of eyes on my ass. Lifting one eyebrow in the direction of the only man around his mid-twenties in the whole place, he raised his glass in return. We both took a drink and he saw an opening and sauntered up to me.

"You're too young and pretty to be in here, you know," he said, a little slurry.

I smiled and stared at him from over my glass. "Probably," I replied, flirtatious, "but I get bored easy and this was the first thing I found."

He smiled. "You like to play poker?"

We entered a room with a large round table and smoke hanging around the one light bulb suspended from the middle of the ceiling. The table already had eight men sitting around it, cigarettes hanging from their mouths and whiskey in their glasses. Cards had already been dealt, but they looked up to stare at us as we closed the door behind us.

"Hey, Mattie," said one of the older men through his missing teeth. "I already told you. You can't buy in with people."

"I'm not trying to use her as a buy in," Mattie said, turning to me as he gestured with his drink. "She's got the hundred dollar buy in. Says she likes to play poker with her Daddy."

The men stared up at me and a predatory gaze settled into the room. "Well," the man replied, "get her a chair and we'll make a woman out of you."

I reached out my hand, doe eyed and coed as I could be. "Hi, my name's Gwendolyn," I introduced myself. "Gwendolyn Stefani."

"Like that girl in the band?"

I sighed dramatically, grinning. "Yeah, she's the reason I started going by Gwendolyn instead of Gwen. I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Well, I'm Henry, that's Matt, and these guys are a bunch of losers that I'm not gonna bother introducing you to." There was a collective sigh from around the room. I sat down at the chair he gestured to and the men threw their cards back towards Henry to reshuffle and deal. Matt sat next to me, stumbling a bit before his body found the chair. "The game is five-card draw and there's a hundred dollar buy in. We play for keeps, little girl," he growled, "so don't think your daddy is gonna come and rescue you if you over-bet. You'll be washing dishes for me until you pay it back."

I tilted my head and ran my fingers through my hair. "Who said I would lose?"

The men chuckled and shook their heads, obviously knowing that I was some poor little rich girl that was bored with Daddy's money and had a need to bet away my inheritance. I pulled the twenties from the pocket of my jeans and tossed the pile to the center of the table and Henry handed me a stack of poker chips.

"Alright, No Doubt," Henry said, smiling a wolfish smile. "Let's play poker."

Hours passed and I did what I had always been trained to do. Observe. Categorize. Manipulate if necessary. The men that sat at the poker table with me all had their unique tells. Henry lit a cigarette every time he was losing and Matt twisted his whiskey glass when held a hand that he knew would win. Blue Collar, across the table from me was a sore loser, swearing every ten minutes or so because he couldn't seem to get ahead and Lumber Jack won more often than anyone else, hiding most of his emotions behind his beard. A couple of the other men spent most of their time at the poker table staring at my chest, so they lost frequently, just from inadequate attention to the game and the man to my left with the twist of lemon floating in his drink won enough times that I considered him stable competition. I had won enough times to make myself appear coherent, but lost more than enough to make myself still seem vulnerable.

Most of the men were getting drunk: their speech slurring together and ashes missing the ashtray when they went to flick their cigarettes. I was getting nearer to the end of my patience with them, but I could really use the cash, so I stuck it out a bit longer to get my buy-in and about a hundred extra back.

A few of the men had gone home and we stayed while I watched Matt was get more and more angry with the fact that I wasn't as easy of a mark as I first revealed myself to be. He was getting more competitive as time went on. He was also a bit of a jerk; making sexually charged comments when I would take his hand and smile sweetly. I would get flashes of him assaulting women or playing pool, fall down drunk and verbally abusive. In my mind, I allowed myself two more hands and I would have made enough cash that I would consider this a win.

"You've had three hands in a row, there, No Doubt," a very drunk Matt murmured as Henry dealt the cards once more. "It's hard to be that lucky."

"It's not luck," I answered, stacking up my chips and the extra dollars that had been thrown on the table throughout the game. "It's talent."

"Bullshit," he growled.

"Mattie, come on," Henry warned. "You're the one that brought her in. Should've done your research on her if you didn't want to lose to her."

"Whatever," Matt said, shaking his head angrily. "Just deal."

I smiled flirtatiously as Henry handed me the cards. I watched as Matt rearranged his cards and glanced at the other men surrounding the table. Tilting my head to pop my neck, I got down to business. I was really starting to hate Matt and wanted to watch him squirm. "You know, most of the time, we just play strip poker back at my dorms. I didn't realize that I had gotten so good at it."

With A Twist turned two cards in and Henry handed him two cards back. Lumber Jack gave back three, shrugging. I wrote him off immediately. He had nothing with two cards in his hand. Not with what I was holding. Blue Collar held back four of his cards, exchanging Henry for a single card. He might be a bit of a worry. Finally, my eyes landed on Matt and watched carefully as he arranged and rearranged his cards.

"Two," he mumbled, tossing the cards to Henry. Picking up the new cards that Henry dealt, Matt began twisting his empty glass on the table.

I placed two of my cards on the felt and looked at Henry. "Two for me, too, please," I grinned.

"Dealer takes one," Henry muttered as we finished exchanging cards. We all stared at out hands and waited for the first bet to be made. As I watched chips get tossed into the center of the table, I stared at Matt, willing his cards to be translucent. I wanted to beat him so badly it hurt.

With A Twist tossed in three chips symbolizing thirty dollars and I raised one of my eyebrows, nodding my approval. "Call."

"Call," Lumber Jack said, tossing in his three.

"Me too," said Blue Collar. We all stared at Matt, who had eyes only for me. I smiled, with my nose in the air, getting the cards I needed in the deal.

"I'll call," he said, "but I'll raise you another thirty."

The men followed his lead and tossed in another three chips each as the round came to me. "I'll see your sixty," I said, smiling and counting my chips. "Then I'll raise you another hundred."

Blue Collar and Twist dumped their cards on the table and shook their heads. Lumber Jack seemed interested for about ten seconds and then bowed out as well. Henry chuckled to himself as he tossed in all of his remaining chips to call my bet.

We all turned to Matt who had to call me or raise me. I knew he wanted to raise, but he had nothing left to bet with. I watched him grind his teeth and look around the room for inspiration. Taking a deep breath as he twisted his glass once more, he reached into his pocket and held up a set of keys. Then, tossing them into the center of the table, he locked his jaw and stared at me.

"Are you having a tantrum?" I asked, making a face. "That seems a bit extreme for a game of cards."

"It's a Toyota hatchback," he said, his face emotionless. "My dad paid cash for it."

Henry was shaking his head. "Come on, Mattie. You can't bet your car."

Matt slammed his hands down on the table, making the neat piles of chips fall over into the center of the table. "Don't tell me what I can't do, old man. I'm gonna beat this little bitch anyway, so what does it matter?"

I took a deep breath and tilted my head, completely calm. I took out my keys as well, jingling them in front of Matt's face. "It's an Acura. Cute. Burgundy."

"Are you sure, there, sweetheart?" Lumber Jack cautioned. "Matt's not fucking around. He plays to win."

Shrugging lightly, I smiled at him. "Lucky for me, it's a fair fight."

The men seemed to back away from the table slowly, knowing they were out of the game and it was down between Matt and I. There was a still that came over me, a calm that I was unfamiliar with. Anxiety was a part of my life, but I had never felt more certain about anything in my life. I knew I would win.

"Well, honey," Matt purred sarcastically. "I'm sure your Daddy can buy you another car since I have four of a kind." He laid down his cards and stared up at me, his eyes full of arrogance. I glanced down at the hand and smiled to myself, seeing four nines and an eight spread out on top of the chips in the center of the table.

"I'm sure that would be true," I smiled and spread my cards out, one at a time on top of the green felt as the men at the table looked on, "but I'm also pretty sure that a royal flush is better."

Henry chuckled next to me and covered his mouth. "Oh, shit," he said, staring at the cards.

"You bitch," Matt breathed as he stared at me sadistically.

Blue Collar glanced up at Matt as he stood, anger getting the best of him. "Hey now, Matt. Hold it together. She didn't force you to up the ante."

"She ain't got no tells," Matt yelled, stepping back from the table. "How are you supposed to beat a chick who ain't got no tells?"

I shrugged. "You obviously don't."

It happened faster than the men at the table were ready for. Matt came at me from across the table, tackling me from the chair and onto the ground. He held me there as the men circled around us, shouting at him to get off me. I stared up at him once the thoughts and memories that he had stored in his brain finished running through mine and I smiled, knowing how short his fuse was now that I had seen inside his brain once again.

"It's probably not a very good idea to hit me," I whispered, knowing that he wanted to, very badly.

"Why not, bitch? What are you going to do about it?"

I sighed melodramatically from beneath him and pursed my lips. "I'll probably stab you."

The older men were pulling Matt off of me and shoving him into the corner, trying to get him to stand down. "Calm the fuck down, man!" Blue Collar lectured. "You're the dumb ass who bet his car!"

Matt wasn't hearing it and punched him in the face, knocking Blue Collar out. Twist and Lumber Jack rushed him then, Henry standing in front of me, blocking his path. Matt was all fists and elbows now, slugging at anything that moved, alcohol fueling his rage. I bounced on the balls of my feet a few times, shaking my hands slightly and smiling. I was ready.

Twist hit the ground and Lumber Jack was too old and slow to catch him. Henry blocked his path, but Matt shoved passed him easily and I stood, ready to face him.

He hesitated long enough to know that he didn't have it in him to kill me, but I knew he had left his mark on women before. I smiled, daring him to come closer and he rushed me holding me against the wall, his hand around my throat. I let him think he was winning for about ten seconds before I spoke. "When you're trying to choke someone out," I slipped out of his grasp and turned the tables on him, holding my elbow into his larynx, "make sure you're actually making contact. You can't choke someone with the palm of your hand. There's not enough pressure."

Matt's eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for breath. "What you're feeling now is the lack of oxygen to your brain. It actually happens pretty fast." Matt pawed at me with his arms, trying to push me away. Henry stepped forward to get involved, but I turned to him and pressed my lips together. "Don't you think it's time he learned some manners?"

Henry hesitated, but then nodded. "Don't kill him," he muttered. "I don't wanna lose my place."

I let go of Matt and backed away, keeping my hands at eye level. "Easy now," I said to Matt, gesturing to Henry. "I don't want to upset Henry."

Taking a paper bag off the shelf behind me, I began loading the cash from the center of the table into the bag along with the keys from both of our cars. Turning to Henry, I smiled sweetly. "Can I get cashed out, please?"

He nodded, still terrified of what Matt might do, me too, for that matter. Matt was still in the back of the room, rubbing his throat and coughing, but I could see him glaring at me from the darkness. I knew that look: he wasn't done embarrassing himself.

Henry tossed me a roll of cash and I caught it, midair and threw it into my paper sack. "It's been a pleasure, boys. Thank you for a lovely evening." Blue Collar and Lumber Jack nodded at me, willing me to leave as quickly as possible, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matt getting ready to attack me again.

"Let it go, Mattie," Twist shouted as Matt launched himself at me once more. I dropped my bag and turned into the attack, grabbing Matt's arm and shoulder and tossing him over my shoulder and throwing him to the wooden ground. He hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of him, but he wasted no time in getting to his feet once more and came at me again. I rolled my eyes as he hit me across the face, making me see stars momentarily.

He grabbed my wrists and pushed them up against my chest and thinking that he had me pinned, he leaned into my ear and whispered. "No one steals my car."

In one movement, I dropped my wrist, twisting his grip, forcing him to drop my arm. I pulled my switchblade and pressed the release. Pressing it into his hip, I smiled. "It's not stealing if you put it in the pot. Don't be an idiot." Making the move to hit me again, Matt pulled his shoulder back in a grand attempt at a gesture of dominance. I made the smallest movement and pushed my switchblade into his kidney and twisted slightly. He gasped and hit his knees, dropping to the floor in front of me. Blood poured from his wound and I wiped my blade on his shirt as he knelt in front of me.

"You stabbed me," he said, gasping in pain.

"You hit me. I told you I would."

Glancing at Henry and Lumber Jack, I smiled gently. "He might bleed out if you don't get him to a hospital. I'll be back later for my car. Don't tow it."

Henry and Lumber Jack nodded silently at me as I picked up my brown paper sack full of money and keys. Twist stepped aside as I grinned at him. "Thanks, guys! I had fun! No hard feelings?"

Twist was shaking his head silently as I strode out into the pool hall. Walking straight out into the parking lot, I pulled out the keys to the Toyota that I just won. Beeping the alarm, I turned towards the sound and grinned. There, before me, was a brand new, bright red Toyota. It didn't even have its plates yet. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. I opened the door, threw the cash into the passenger seat and smiled, seeing that it was a manual transmission. Turning the key, I threw it into first gear and tore out of the parking lot, heading towards a motel down the street to stash it until I could come back for it later. I had seen the motel coming into town and made note to myself that it had underground parking. I knew it would come in handy.

Serra

We were back on the road, headed towards the vampire nest in Ashland, Montana. I texted Grace an hour or so ago that we were done with dinner, but I hadn't heard back from her. I knew I shouldn't be worried about my sister; she could handle herself just fine, but we were always in constant communication. When Grace didn't answer back immediately, it usually meant she was in some sort of trouble.

Trying to distract myself, I took out my engraved silver on black Colt .45 1911s and began to polish them absentmindedly. I checked the clips we had in the dash and in the duffle bags in the back seat to make sure they were loaded with silver rounds, ready for the fangs we were about to hunt. Everything seemed prepared, so I sat, staring out the window as the trees flew by.

"What's the matter?" Dad asked, about twenty minutes later. "It's not like you to be this quiet."

"I haven't heard from Grace."

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "She's too busy with her newest boyfriend or something to be bothered with us, Serra." Shaking his head, he continued. "I'll be glad when this phase is over."

"You won't be around to see this phase pass, Dad," I said accusingly. "You have no right to be mad at her." I turned to stare out the window again. "You'd better make your peace with your eldest, or you'll be fucking her up worse than me after this is all over."

"Watch your language."

We pulled into the motel at the end of town as the sun sank below the horizon. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was almost nine thirty. "How is it still dusk?" I asked Daddy as we unloaded the car. "It's nine twenty six."

"We're higher up on the latitudinal lines," he said, pulling the duffle full of weapons out of the backseat. "Sun's in the sky longer."

Shrugging, I followed with my own duffle full of clothes and bathroom supplies. I knew we would be hunting early in the morning, before the vampires had a chance to wake up and begin their day. I was eager to get into a shower and get a full night's sleep…sleep was almost more important to me than food.

"Have you heard from your sister?"

I glanced up at Dad as I threw my bag down on the bed. "I haven't checked in about an hour."

He just stared at me, waiting for me to pull my phone out of my pocket. I flipped it open and smiled. "Yeah, she's fine."

Daddy nodded, going back to unloading his weapons and laying them out on his bed. I flipped on the lights in the bathroom and dumped my toiletries on the counter next to the sink and poked my head back into the main living space. "I'm gonna take a shower so I can go to bed. You need the bathroom?"

He was shaking his head, but already immersed in the same newspaper articles that he had been studying at our kitchen table. "Go ahead."

I closed the door, stared into the mirror and shook my head. This was awful without Grace.

Dad shook me awake the next morning before the sun rose. "Let's get moving. They'll still be asleep."

"What? You know where the den is?"

He was nodding as he pulled on a flannel and buttoned it up. "Yeah. Friend of mine says they're hold up in a cabin in the woods off the highway. Near a high school, of all places." Daddy raised his eyebrows. "Teenagers are easy prey."

Shaking my head, I rolled off the bed and struggled to stand. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I swore under my breath. "Holy shit, it's early."

"You've got ten minutes, or I'm doing this without you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

The cabin was nestled in a forest about five minutes outside of town. It was quiet outside, but there were seven cars and trucks parked haphazardly up and down the dirt driveway. "How big is the coven?" I asked, staring at Dad.

He shrugged. "I figured eight or ten."

"Eight or ten? You don't have an exact number?" I gestured to the cars parked everywhere. "There are seven vehicles, Daddy. If each one has a mate, that could be fourteen. Easily!"

He shrugged again. "Are you complaining?"

"Yeah!" I steeled myself. This was the biggest coven of vampires we had ever attempted to eliminate on our own. To top it off, Grace wasn't with us, cutting out a large part of our defense capabilities. "Holy shit, Daddy."

"Language."

We crept towards the cabin loaded down with silver ammunition and machetes. I took a few cleansing breaths and he nodded at me. "Ready?" he mouthed.

Shrugging, I gestured with one of my guns.

We went in, guns at the ready. One of the female vampires heard us come in and immediately hissed at me, bearing her fangs. I aimed without thinking and put a silver bullet between her eyes, dropping her into a pile at my feet.

The next twenty minutes were gone in seconds. I fired rapidly, dropping bodies left and right, breathing calmly and leading targets, just like Grace taught me to. Daddy went around the room, fighting fangs with machetes, one in each hand, and he took off heads one at a time. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two head for the door, trying to make a break for it.

I barely remember it happening, but I hit the door running, full tilt, trying to catch up to them. Vampires were fast, but a bullet was faster. Running as fast as I could to get a clear shot, I got to the top of the driveway and squared my feet, using both of my guns to aim at once. I couldn't afford to miss. Lining them up, I fired four bullets. Both fangs dropped to the ground. Turning on my toe, I ran back to the cabin, making sure that Daddy had taken care of the rest.

Grace lay across the hood of her Acura and lined up the Winchester long rifle, backing up Serra as the vampires made a break for it. Through the scope, she watched her sister chase after two vamps, find a good spot in the dirt and square her hips, lining the target with both of her arms. Smiling, pride seeped up Grace's spine as she watched Serra's guns lead the vampires and she fired twice from each gun. Both of the vampires dropped where they were. From her vantage point, Grace could see that both fatalities were headshots, just as Serra had been taught.

"Good girl," Grace whispered, watching Serra jog back into the cabin.

"That was amazing, Lady Luck," Daddy was saying as we piled up the vampire bodies to burn in the middle of the forest. "You've gotten to be a fantastic shot. It's a little scary."

I grinned, eating up the praise Daddy had reserved for me. Lighting the match, I pulled the bandana over my mouth and nose and threw it into the bonfire. "Thanks, Daddy. I've been working on my aim for awhile now."

"I know," he answered, staring into the flames that licked the corpses. "Ever since that ricochet." He smiled lightly at me, knowing it was a sore subject for me. "I'm glad you fixed the mistake."

"I would never risk her," I said automatically. "When we go hunting…I never want to put Grace in harm's way."

"And you never will again, baby girl," he said, wiping his hands on a towel. "She should have been here. She should have seen you."

"I did," Grace's voice came out from behind the trees that surrounded the bonfire. I probably jumped about three feet into the air. She moved silently and was impossible to pick up, even with my exaggerated senses.

"Jesus, Grace," Daddy said, holding his chest, "where the fuck did you come from?"

I was laughing, despite myself, still breathing hard from the surprise. "Watch your language, Daddy." Walking over to my sister, I wrapped her into a hug, not caring if she saw my thoughts or not. She smiled back at me, holding out her arms. "What are you doing here, Gracie?"

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "I couldn't just sit at home, waiting for texts. I watched from the hill behind the cabin with the Winchester."

I knew Daddy was trying his best to be angry with her, but the smile that crept to his lips was too much for his face to hide. "Come here, daughter," he said, opening his arms. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Oh, thank you, father," she responded as she walked towards him, her accent going British, as it did when she and Daddy played this game. "I am so pleased you approve."

He chuckled and hugged her, kissing her forehead. They exchanged a quiet moment and she nodded, smiling lightly. I knew everything was forgiven and finally, we could be ourselves again.

We sat around the bonfire of burning vampires for a few hours, making sure that they burned completely. It was a lot like a campfire, except for the terrible smell that was made when a vampire burned. We exchanged stories about what had happened during the fight and Grace told us about the poker game she won.

"This fucktard was so sadistic. He couldn't wait to beat me, and then I pull a royal flush out of my ass and I won his car."

"Grace. Be a lady," Daddy's voice came, shaking his head at her colorful language.

I ignored Daddy. "You won a car?"

She nodded, smiling. "I parked it in the underground motel parking lot, right outside of town."

"That's where we're staying!"

Grace grinned and nodded, her eyebrows up, "I know, Lucky, that's why I picked it. It's the only skuzzy, cash-only motel in town." She glanced at Daddy and smiled. "I figured I would keep the Toyota, since it's brand new, and obviously a trophy for my 'beaten-asshole' collection," Daddy clicked his tongue, "and you could keep the Acura, so you have a car, too."

"Really, Gracie? I could have my own car?"

She shrugged, "Sure, why not? It's not like I can sell the Toyota. He'll probably report it stolen."

I hugged her again and she froze momentarily as my thoughts and emotions flew into her brain. "Thanks, Gracie."

"Best big sister, ever, right?"

We drove back together in the Acura and Daddy followed us in the Chevelle as we made our way back to the motel. Grace got out after parking the car and walked around to the passenger side, holding out the key ring. "Here you go, Lucky!" she exclaimed, grinning.

Daddy leaned up against the Chevelle as I grabbed the keys and ran around to the other side of the car. Diving into the driver's seat, I immediately went to adjusting the mirrors and the seat. Gracie was a lot taller than me and I didn't need nearly so much leg room.

"She's a lucky kid," Dad said as Grace approached the Chevelle to lean next to him, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Always has been," Grace replied quietly. "Serendipity. 'Fortunate happenstance'," she continued, smiling, "isn't that Webster's definition?"

Dad chuckled quietly, "Yeah. Yeah it is." He glanced at Grace and pursed his lips. "And you're my Amazing Grace."

"I don't know if that's the right adjective, Dad," she countered, "more like Destructive Grace or Impulsive Grace."

"Is this you apologizing?"

"I don't think I really need to apologize for doing something that adults do, but if that's what you need for us to get passed this, then yes. I'm apologizing."

Dad sighed heavily and crossed his arms as well. They looked identical, leaning up against the car and watching Serra. "I'm sorry too, kiddo."

"For leaving us alone?"

"For leaving you alone." He turned to stare at his eldest daughter. "Take care of each other. Just like this," he said, gesturing. "Keep each other happy, Gracie."

She nodded as Serra ran up to her, beaming. "I think I'm the only sophomore at Lawrence High to have my own car."

"Probably," Grace said, smiling. "Take care of it, please?"

"Uh, yeah!" I looked around, searching for Grace's new car. "Where's the Toyota?" Holding out the key fob and beeping the alarm, I followed the sound and I could feel my eyes go wide. The bright red Toyota was brand new. "Are you kidding?" I asked, approaching it, barely daring to touch the clear coat. "It doesn't even have plates yet!"

"I know, it's gonna be a bitch to get it to disappear."

Daddy smiled and shook his head. "I've know a guy," he said, "up in Sioux Falls, Iowa. Owns a tow and junkyard. Bobby can change out the VIN numbers and we'll register it, all legal."

Grace turned to smile at him, "Thanks, Daddy." He opened his arms to hug her and images that plagued his mind flashed through Grace's. _Making a deal in the middle of an abandoned road with a Crossroads Demon. Watching Serra and Grace play Monopoly at the base of the stairs, their hair down and wet from baths. Seeing Grace get knocked down in New Orleans from the bookcase thrown over by the poltergeist, glass flying everywhere._

Coming out of his brain, tears came to Grace's eyes as she struggled to hold onto her own emotions. Truman was a wreck and now she knew the end was coming. He pulled away and smiled weakly, breaking eye contact and knowing that she saw what he was thinking about.

"How soon?" Grace whispered as Serra walked over to the new Toyota. Refusing to look at her, he licked his lips and shook his head. "Dad, how soon?"

"Two weeks."

Grace's face told him that it was as if her entire thought process aligned, pieces falling into place and mysteries being solved. "My birthday," Grace breathed.

Tru glanced at his daughter and tears welled in his eyes. "Grace, I…" She was shaking her head.

"Mom died on my birthday, too," she accused, her eyes brimming with tears. "How big was this deal?"

"My Amazing Grace," he breathed, "my Amazing Grace."

She was shaking her head and backed away. "Both of you?"

Biting his lip, he nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry, Gracie. Please forgive me."

Grace took a deep, shaky breath. "Oh my God, Dad," she said, her eyes clearing and she steadied herself, regaining control.

"Forgive me, please." Tru was pleading. "Please, Gracie. I'm so sorry."

Closing her eyes, she spoke quietly. "Serra can't know. Ever." As she opened her eyes, he was nodding, completely agreeing. "Ever," she repeated. "I forgive you. We're family."

Grace

Four days were left of my father's life. I had gone over the scene over and over in my head, looking for anything that I could try and change in order to change the vision. Every time I tried sabotaging something from the dream, I would have another vision to replace the one I just changed. Yesterday, I got desperate dumped sugar in each of our gas tanks. This morning, Bobby came by to switch out the VIN number on my new Toyota and when he tried to start it, I panicked and confessed, not wanting my brand new car to be ruined.

"Jesus, Grace, why would you do something like that?" Dad lectured as he listened to me in the kitchen, holding his hot mug of coffee.

I shrugged. "I'm trying to change the future."

Bobby went to work outside, drilling holes in each of our gas tanks and draining them, cleaning out the sugary residue and patching the tanks. Dad tilted his head and pressed his lips together. "Honey, there's no changing what's coming. I told you that already."

"Then what's the point of me dreaming about it?"

He stared at me from over his mug and lifted his eyebrows. "You've been dreaming about it?"

Realizing my mistake, I broke eye contact and shook my head. "Just once or twice," I lied. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" he asked, stepping towards me. "Grace, you're seeing the future?"

"Sometimes," I said, spreading my hands out on our kitchen table as I sat down. "Sometimes I see you, sometimes I see a hunt. Sometimes, I dream about groceries."

Daddy smiled at that, shaking his head. "You are a magical creature, that's for sure."

"It's a pain in my ass," I replied automatically.

He nodded and glanced up as Bobby came back into the house. "Alright, kiddo," he said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. "Operation Sugar Tank has been taken care of. Next time you wanna keep someone home without killing the motor, how about you just take off the serpentine belt or something, huh?"

I smiled and closed my eyes. "Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "Sorry. Thanks for fixing it."

He walked into the kitchen and smiled back at me, taking off his trucker cap and running a hand through his hair, then placing it back on his head. "Anytime, honey." Bobby glanced up at Dad and smiled lightly. "How old are you now, Grace?"

I broke eye contact with him and stared at my hands. "I'll be twenty in four days."

"Ain't that somethin'," Bobby answered, turning his gaze towards Dad. "Twenty."

"Leave it alone, Bobby," Daddy said under his breath. "She already knows and we've already been through this."

He went back to rubbing his hands on the rag he held. "You know, Grace, anything you need, I'm right up in Sioux Falls. You come and see me any time you need to." I remained silent, still watching the bend of my fingers and the creases in my skin. "I've got my two boys," he continued, "right about your age. They come up and see me quite a bit. You could be a part of our family, too."

"I've got a family, thanks, Bobby." I got up from the table and turned, ready to storm out. "Besides, he's not even dead yet."

I walked out of the kitchen, the swinging door squeaking every time it passed the other way. "Don't worry, Bobby," Tru said quietly. "She'll come around. Besides, Emery is gonna have her hands full with these two."  
"I've got a feeling," Bobby nodded. "The boys would get a kick out of her." He glanced at Truman, smiling gently. "Dean especially."

"You just keep your little love connection to yourself," Tru replied, chuckling. "Grace is a firecracker with a lot of baggage. She doesn't need any more drama."

"Aw, come on, Tru. There's always room for a little more."

I stomped up the steps of the house, feeling childish about my mini tantrum in the kitchen. Bobby was right; we would need all the family we could get in the coming years. I made it a point to put the Singer Automotive business card in my wallet and I sat on my bed, waiting for Serra to find me. Her footsteps echoed through the hall and eventually, she found her way to my doorframe.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly.

Nodding, I rubbed my face and lay back on the bed. "Yeah," I sighed as I stretched. "What's up?"

"Is that Bobby Singer downstairs?"

From under my hands, I nodded again. "Yeah, he came to switch out the VIN on my car." I watched as Serra plopped on the bed next to me. "And to drain and clean all the gas tanks."

"What was wrong with the gas tanks?" Serra asked, confused.

Shaking my head, I dismissed her question. "Don't worry about it," I said. "You wanna go get some food?"

I knew Serra would nod her head eagerly and I wanted nothing more than to get out of the house, away from Dad, considering I was convinced that he was filling Bobby in on my abilities and talents so that when he was gone, Emery would have someone she could depend on if I ever got out of control. I didn't know how I felt about being thought of a 'Katie Kaboom' but at the same time, it was comforting knowing that Bobby was there.

Throwing on a flannel, I grabbed my purse and glanced at Serra, who had her wallet and phone in her hand already. "Alright," I said, "let's go."

Serra bounded down the steps and stuck her head into the kitchen. I could hear her ask if Dad or Bobby wanted anything while we were out. She followed me out the door and smiled. "Daddy wants a cheeseburger and Bobby said that if we found pie, to bring him a slice or two."

I chuckled. "I owe him for my car and the tanks. We'll go and find some pie."

Getting into my brand new car, I grinned again, picturing the look on that asshole, Matt's, face. I started it up and backed out of the driveway. "We need gas first."

After we got gas, we continued to the local diner/bakery that carried whole pies. I sent Serra in for a cherry pie and she abided, carrying her wallet. I listened to the radio while I waited for my sister as the clouds began to roll in for yet another summer storm.

Serra

Walking into the diner, I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of freshly baked pies and breads. I stepped up to the counter and smiled at the clerk. "Hi, can I get a whole cherry pie to go?"

"Sure, hold on. They're just coming out now," he replied as he headed to the kitchen to get my pie. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a pair of guys sitting at the booth behind me. A grin slid across my face as I turned and made eye contact with the younger of the two.

It wasn't the first time I had hit on someone, and I was positive that it wouldn't be my last, but I approached their table with reckless abandon. "Hi, boys," I purred, smiling. "How's it going?"

The older one smiled and winked at me, "It's going well, how about yourself?"

I gave him a once over, but I was more attracted to the younger one. He was a little more rugged, a little less shaven. I smiled again, leaning towards him as I rested my hands on their table. "I'm doing well, thank you. Never seen you guys around here before."

"Oh," he replied, nervous. His hair was a little too long and he did his best to breathe slowly. "No, we're not from here. Well, we are, but not anymore."

"No?" I asked, "What brings you into town?"

"We're here with our friend…who's with his friend," he responded, stumbling. I watched the older one roll his eyes and go back to his menu, figuring out that I wasn't interested in him.

I nodded, showing my interest in his explanation. "Yeah? Well, I live here and if you've got some extra time on your hands, you should give me a call." I reached for his hand and grabbed a pen from the counter, writing my name and number on his skin. "Leave this one at home," I said, gesturing to the other guy in the booth.

He was flabbergasted at my shameless come-on. I grinned once more and turned as the clerk boxed up my pie. "Yeah, for sure."

I grabbed my pie, handed the clerk a ten-dollar bill and winked as I walked through the door, the bell jingling above me as I left.

The older one leaned across the table and grabbed his brother's hand to look at the scrawl on his skin. "Lucky?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows and making a face. "Her name is Lucky?"

Sam laughed nervously and shook his head. "Apparently," he answered.

Dean leaned back into the booth. "Man, this never happens to you and she's hot. You should call her. See if she has a sister."

"I'm not going to call her, Dean."

"Aw, come on, Sammy," he said, shaking his head with disappointment. "You need to get laid."

Redness flushing his cheeks, he stared out the window and shook his head, watching a little red Toyota drive away. "Shut up, man," he said quietly, still tracing his fingers where the pen dug into his skin. There was electricity still tingling through his hand where she touched him. He smiled lightly as it began to rain.

Grace

There were two days until my birthday. I sat on my bed and stared at the clock on the wall, willing it to slow to a stop. My sleep was filled with nightmares, visions of Dad fighting the demon that I knew we would face in forty-eight hours. I had become obsessed with time, wearing a watch and checking it every time I had a second…there were times that the panic gripped me so tightly that I couldn't breathe.

Serra had been handling things better than I thought she would have, but she wasn't battling demons in her nightmares each night. She was sullen and tired, but I was betting her exhaustion was from a complete lack of sleep, not from visions of rain and lightning.

Dad and Emery avoided the upcoming problem all together. Dad was already talking about going on another hunt: he had caught wind of a possible poltergeist in Dallas and he was downstairs, making plans as I sat on my bed and tried to stop time. Emery ignored Dad's impending doom as well, talking about what it would be like to work as a research assistant at the local community college or if maybe she could get a job as a librarian there as well. I had chosen to ignore both of them, concentrating instead on trying not to get fired from my restaurant job and attempting to register for classes in the fall.

There was a knock on the door and Dad's voice carried through the wood. "Gracie, check this out," he was saying before I acknowledged his knock. "This spirit is haunting an actual plantation! We could see a working cotton plantation." He opened the door and I stared at him, my eyebrows furrowed and my head tilted. Seeing my expression, he hesitated only slightly with a smile on his face. "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" I asked, repeating his question sarcastically. "What is the matter with you, Dad? You're talking about going on a poltergeist hunt and we're forty-eight hours away from your death."

"Well, talking about it all the time isn't going to make it go away. Wouldn't you rather be doing something else to distract you?"

I closed my eyes out of pure frustration. "Fine. You wanna go on this hunt?"

He nodded, getting excited again. "Yeah, look," he handed me a newspaper clipping and sat on the bed next to me. "See, it's a historical location and there are bodies buried on the property of freed slaves that decided to stay on the property once the Emancipation Proclamation went into effect." He looked up at me and grinned. "I'll bet you it's an angry slave. Maybe one that wasn't free when he died or something. It's throwing tourists down the stairs!" The lack of interest from me seemed to awaken a child-like excitement in my father as I sat there and watched him. He shoved the newspaper article into my hand and pointed at it. "Don't you think, Gracie?"

Shrugging, I tried to feign excitement, but it came out flat and muted. "Yeah, sure," I said, taking the newspaper that he kept holding out to me.

"Come on, sweetie. I don't want to do this: live out my last days sitting on the couch and waiting to die." I stared at him, tears welling in my eyes again. He continued, "Don't you think this is better? Going out doing what we do best?"

I struggled to nod; looking away and holding my head back slightly to keep the tears from running down my cheek. "Yeah, I guess."

Dad patted my knee and smiled again. "That's my girl. Get your sister packed. We're leaving in about twenty minutes."

With that, he stood and strode out of my room, leaving the door open as I heard his shout to Serra excitedly, "Let's go, Lady Luck! We've got a ghost to hunt."

Seconds later, Serra wandered into my room and made a face. "We're hunting?"

"We're distracting him," I said, holding up my finger and pressing my lips together. "Like a true Browning, avoidance is the best medicine."

"So we're still not going to try and stop it?"

I sighed heavily as I shook the old clothes out of the duffle from my closet. "I've tried, Lucky. Different dreams, same ending."

She nodded slowly and turned to head back to her room. "Where are we going?"

"Dallas."

Emery couldn't be convinced to come along with us; no matter how hard we tried. After we hugged her goodbye, Serra and I headed to the Chevelle and waited in the car as Dad and Em said their own goodbyes. I watched in the rear view mirror and felt the knot in my throat grow tighter as I saw them kiss. It was the first time I had ever witnessed our father kiss anyone besides Mom and I looked away, not really knowing how I should react. Suddenly, I knew why we were on our way to Dallas without Em: he wanted his final days to be with his daughters and his daughters alone.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep control of my emotions.

"Are they making out?" Serra's voice broke through my thoughts as she turned to watch and I giggled, despite the situation. "That's kinda gross."

"Why is it gross?" I asked, wiping my face.

I could see Serra shake her head in the mirror from the back seat. "I don't know. She's not Mom? Is that a reason?"

"Sure," I answered, nodding. "That could be a reason."

We continued to spy on them from our places in the car and finally, Dad turned away from her and slammed the lid to the trunk down, bouncing the Chevelle slightly. Emery waved at us and blew us kisses. "I love you, girls. Take care of each other."

Serra leaned out the window and waved back. "Love you too, Em! We will."

Without another word, Dad threw the car into reverse and tore down the driveway, kicking up dust and gravel. We pulled into the street in the front of our house and I waved once more at Emery. Things would be a lot different when we got back.

Eight hours later, we were pulling into a skuzzy motel on the outskirts of Marlin, Texas. I glanced around and shrugged, "I thought the house was in Dallas?"

"I just said Dallas so you wouldn't ask where Marlin was," he replied, getting out of the car and stretching. We had driven straight through, which wasn't surprising, but I was stiff and windblown. Dad was doing everything he could to be his normal, 'excited to be hunting' self, but I couldn't help but hear the tight undertone of his voice as he walked around to the trunk.

Glancing behind me, in the back seat, I saw that Serra had fallen asleep. "Hey," I said, touching her arm lightly. "We're here."

Her auburn eyes flittered open and she squinted into the sunlight. "Where's here?"

"Marlin, Texas."

"I thought he said Dallas?"

I just shook my head as we got out of the car and helped him unload.

The next twenty-four hours passed quickly, getting the feel for the town and the plantation house that we would be hunting in and surprisingly enough, it felt like old times. We spent a lot of time laughing and making fun of each other, just like we used to on a hunt, and by the time we were digging up the back lawn of the house at one in the morning to salt and burn the vengeful slave's remains, we were laughing about the fact that Serra had tripped twice over the same roots of the tree that had grown over the make-shift graveyard.

I had almost forgotten about the fact that Dad would be dead in less than twenty-four hours.

Serra did the honors, flicking a book of lit matches into the hole that took almost three hours to dig. The bones burned slowly and I glanced up at my sister and Dad and grinned. It was a job well done.

"You hungry?" Daddy said, glancing mostly at Serra.

She smiled and wiped her hands on her jeans. "That's like asking if I want money, Daddy. The answer is always yes."

He chuckled and tossed the shovels into the giant Army duffle that rode around with us in the Chevelle's trunk. "I don't know where you put it all," he said, grinning at my sister. "You're the tiniest little thing."

I grinned, too, watching Serra and Daddy interact. Every once and awhile, my breath would catch in my throat, but I was doing a good job keeping my emotions at bay and away from Serra. I still hadn't told her that Dad was coming up on his final hours, and it didn't seem fair that I knew and she didn't, but as the wise men say; ignorance is bliss. I wasn't going to be the one to ruin what we had here, during his final day.

We went back to the motel and each took our turn showering. I came out of the bathroom with a towel around my body, looking for clothes in my duffle, to find Serra and Dad grinning at me and singing "Happy Birthday." They had somehow managed to get a cake and light candles while I was washing my hair and I turned, surprised and listened to them sing.

Shaking my head, I laughed as they both finished singing with a flurry of jazz hands and I walked over to the tiny motel table and blew out my candles. "You couldn't wait until I got dressed?"

"Honestly, I thought you had clothes in there," Serra laughed. "I guess I forgot how much you hate getting dressed in the hot bathroom."

Nodding, I sat down on the bed and readjusted my towel. "I do hate getting dressed in there. All steamy and cramped."

Dad chuckled and shook his head, using one of his Buck knives to cut my cake. I watched him dole out giant pieces of cake on hotel doilies to each of us and took a deep, ragged breath. "I got you yellow cake and chocolate frosting. It's not as good as Mom's, but I'm pretty sure it's still your favorite."

I nodded and took my cake, feeling the burn in my eyes once more as tears threatened to flood them. "Thanks, Daddy."

He stared at me and smiled sadly. "Happy birthday, Amazing Grace."

I never fell to sleep that morning, but rather, listened to Serra and Daddy snore lightly, making almost the same sounds as they breathed. I turned to watch the sun rise and then let them sleep well into the day as I lay in bed next to my sister, staring at the ceiling. Hours passed and I felt bound to the bed, thinking that if I didn't move, then maybe time would stand still and I wouldn't have to live through Dad being killed by a demon.

In the distance, around eleven-thirty that morning, I could hear the sound of thunder as dark, threatening clouds rolled across the sky. I closed my eyes, the anxiety crept up my spine, and I waited patiently for my visions to begin.

I had seen hundreds of different variations of this day, but all of them began with thunder in the distance and rain coming down in sheets. The hail would begin in the late afternoon, around three, and the tornado sirens would go off around four. I never saw a tornado touch down, so I wasn't sure about how close it may or may not be, but we would go out to dinner, and then the fight would play out as Serra and I climbed a hill back to the Chevelle.

I could hear Dad stir as he woke up slowly. "Morning, Grace," he whispered. "You're old now."

"You're hilarious," I replied automatically.

"Serra still asleep?"

"Yeah," I said quietly as I turned to face him. "Let's just stay here all day and nothing will happen."

"You know that's not true, kiddo."

"I didn't go to sleep. Didn't have another vision. The last one is at a restaurant in a parking lot." I struggled to see the logic in what I was explaining. "If we never go to the restaurant, then he'll never find you."

"Then he'll come here and things could get messy."

I shook my head and rolled to my back once more, saying nothing.

"We can stay here and see how it plays out if you want," Dad whispered, trying to keep me happy. "But I also want to keep you two safe from him."

"He's not really after us, is he?"

He ignored me and stood, stretching. "I'm gonna take a shower and we can go find something to eat. Your sister is going to wake up hungry."

Sighing, I shook my head. "What if we just order food? Have it brought to us?"

"Whatever you say, Grace." He closed the bathroom door as I could hear the rain begin.

We watched daytime TV and ate pizza as the afternoon crept into evening with the rain still pelting down. Serra leaned against me, her head on my shoulder as she giggled along with the laugh track of The Golden Girls. Every once and awhile, I would notice Dad glance at the clock and my heartbeat would jump, knowing that we were coming up on that time. Something would have to change if my vision was accurate.

Almost as if I heard it before it happened, the hail began to pelt the cars outside. I jumped, hearing the ice on metal and glanced at Dad. "It's all good, Gracie," Serra said from my shoulder. "It's just the storm."

"Yeah," I said. "It startled me."

In the distance, I could hear the wail of the tornado sirens begin to scream. I turned my head without moving my body and I knew this was it; the change that would force us out of the motel room and into the action I saw in my vision. A few minutes later, a knock at the door threw me again, and I jumped about two inches into the air. Serra glanced at me, her eyebrows raised and reached for her guns that had been lying on the side table. Dad gestured to the door and she nodded, taking the safety off as I went to the peephole. Dad took a breath and shouted, "Yeah?"

"Hi," a timid female voice began, "I'm the motel manager's daughter and we're going around to tell people that the sirens are going off."

I opened the door and smiled weakly at her. "Hi," I greeted. "What does that mean?"

"It, uh, means there's a tornado coming."

"Do you guys have a storm cellar?"

She was shaking her head. "No, we share the community one with the restaurant down the hill. She pointed, waving towards the parking lot behind the motel. I gasped slightly, seeing the hill from my vision, where we would abandon our father as we ran for cover. This was it. The manager's daughter continued mercilessly. "It's your choice if you wanna go down there or not, but as the management, we're required to alert and advise you to make your way down there." I nodded emotionlessly. "It'll be open for the next twenty minutes, unless we see a twister touch down before that."

She walked away and I turned towards Serra and Dad. "There's a community shelter down the hill," I said, my words dripping with meaning towards Dad. "In the restaurant parking lot."

"That's clever," Dad said offhandedly, not referring to the storm cellar at all, but at the round about way that fate was making us a part of its plan. "Well," he said, getting to his feet and pulling on his boots, "we're not going to sit here and wait for a tornado to take us all away."

Serra nodded gratefully as she began throwing her things into her bag. "Thank you," she said, more to herself than anything. My baby sister hated tornadoes and had decided years ago that she should be the only natural disaster that should exist. She was ready in a matter of minutes, throwing her duffle over her shoulders and standing, waiting at the door.

I zipped up my own bag, my pearl-handled engraved Colt .45 shoved into the waistband of my jeans. Daddy looked up at me from his own bag and took a deep breath. "You ready?"

I shook my head. "No."

He locked his jaw and pressed his lips together. "Well, that was a rhetorical question anyway. Let's go, girls."

Glancing around the room once more, we filed out into the hall of the hotel and began the trek down the hill towards the restaurant's parking lot, where the storm cellar was. I was on edge during the march, my boots finding their steps on their own. We climbed down the dirt hill that was scattered with weeds and made our way towards the open cellar in the ground.

A man greeted us, shaking Dad's hand as we walked down the steps to the basement. "Hi," he said, his deep voice almost a purr. "You from the motel?"

Dad nodded and attempted a smile. "Yeah. You?"

The man agreed, slowly bowing his head and smiling. "Yes, just in town on some business."

As I passed, the man made a point of trying to shake my hand, but I made a big deal about carrying my duffle so I wouldn't have to touch him. As I walked into the dark cellar, I glanced around, but I didn't recognize any of the faces from my vision, but at the same time, the demon in question had been too far away to distinguish characteristics.

Serra sat down on the floor at my feet and watched the others from the hotel come trickling in. She glanced up at me and raised her eyebrows. "How you doing, Big Sister?"

"Barely holding it together, Little Sister."

She nodded, though I hadn't looked down. We were silent, waiting for the storm to approach us and to force the storm cellar doors closed. There were about a dozen people in the community cellar and finally, Dad came into the darkness, joining us in our corner of the room.

I refused to look at him, feeling like if I did, I would break down at any moment. Anger was gripping me tighter and tighter, so I decided to use that to my advantage, hoping that my real feelings wouldn't make it to the surface.

"Grace," Dad started, reaching out to my shoulder, careful not to make skin-to-skin contact.

I shook my head and pulled away from him. "Don't." Staring at him in the dim light, I lowered my chin and set my jaw. "You don't get to say goodbye."

Feeling Serra's long auburn hair hit my leg as she whipped around to stare up at me from her position on the floor, I could feel the surprise from her. I knew I was pushing it and I knew that Dad's deal had something to do with me, but the angry child in me couldn't let him have the satisfaction of finality or closure just yet. I wanted the upper hand. I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be the stupid one.

I wish I wasn't so stubborn.

Truman

Hearing my daughter say that I didn't get to say goodbye was something that I never expected out of her and honestly, I was proud of her. She had every right to be pissed. I just never thought it would hurt so much.

The storm was a bastard. Hail rattled the tin roof and bounced against the tempered glass windows of the storm cellar and I wandered over to a table where the man that greeted me on entry sat. His complexion was dark, he was tall and broad shouldered, clean-shaven and wearing a suit; reminding me of a businessman from Louisiana. I approached the table slowly, smiling. "You mind if I join you?"

He smiled a crocodile smile and gestured to the chair. "Not at all. Make yourself comfortable."

I nodded my thanks and glanced at my daughters, leaning on each other in the corner of the cellar. Serra always took refuge in Grace's calm and still; it's what made me know that they would be all right once I was gone. Emery would be there, besides. I didn't have a doubt that my girls would be fine.

"You look upset," the man said quietly, spinning a glass of amber colored liquid on the table in front of him.

I shrugged. "My little one doesn't like tornadoes," I said, filling the space. "She's only fifteen. Likes to be in control." I chuckled. "Can't control a tornado."

"That is the truth," the man chuckled. He extended his hand. "I am Cayman."

"Tru," I replied, taking his hand and shaking it over the table.

Cayman lowered his hand and leaned back in his chair, taking his drink from the table and taking a long draw from it. He set it back down, sighing slightly. "We have much to discuss, Truman Browning."

I stared at him, closed my mouth, and glanced back towards my girls once more. "You're not the same one I made the deal with."

"No, I'm not."

"So what do you want?"

Cayman smiled and tilted his head, as if he was considering me. "I want to change your deal."

Shaking my head and leaning away from the demon sitting in front of me, wearing a very expensive suit, "You can't do that. You're not Crowley."

"Crowley can kiss my ass," Cayman spat, leaning forward towards me across the table. "He has done everything he can to bend the rules to get more contracts for himself, leaving none for the rest of us. I am a Crossroads, just as much as he. I was supposed to get your contract that night. I'm here to reclaim it."

"And why would I let you do that?"

"Because I don't care about the Soul Count any longer," Cayman hissed. "All I want to do is piss Crowley off." He leaned back in his seat once more and picked up his glass, spinning the ice as he twirled the glass in his hand. "I wouldn't be undoing the contract, just changing its terms. I kill you before midnight tonight instead of Crowley's Hellhounds and you get to go to Heaven."

I couldn't do anything but stare at the demon before me. It seemed too good to be true. "Why would I get to go to Heaven if I made a deal for my soul?"

"Because you made you deal with Crowley. He never expected you to be killed by another Crossroads." Cayman smiled that reptilian smile once more and tilted his head. "Your contract doesn't cover a Crossroads Demon death. Only a natural one."

Shaking my head, I raised my eyebrows. "I still end up dead."

"But not in Hell."

I crossed my arms and leaned against the back of my own chair as I stared towards Grace and Serra. "And all of this is just because you want to piss off another Crossroads Demon?"

"It's a long standing rivalry."

There was a long pause as we both listened to the storm rage outside. It sounded more and more like the tornado was edging nearer to us and we would be in the midst of it as night fell. Taking a breath, I leaned towards Cayman, "What about my wife? She was a part of the deal. She got ten years, I got twenty."

"Ah, yes. Evangeline is one of my favorites."

There was a moment of pure rage that flew through me and I wanted nothing more than to come across the table at the demon sitting across from me. Barely restrained, I grit my teeth and asked again, "Will her deal be undone as well?"

"No."

Pursing my lips, I took a breath and stretched this as far as I could before I gave in. "What if we switched? Let me take her place."

Cayman seemed intrigued, so I held my breath, not wanting to sway his thoughts. "That would set Crowley over the edge," he mumbled to himself. Staring up at me, he extended his hand. "I believe we have an accord, Mr. Browning," he said. "Your wife Evangeline gets a one way ticket to Heaven and you accompany me to The Pit. Hell keeps its one soul, Crowley is out a mark, and you get to leave your girls knowing you did what you could to save their mother's eternal life."

The wind roared from above us, pushing air forcefully through the ducts, blowing stale breeze through the cellar. I reached over the table, taking Cayman's hand and shaking it once. I caught Grace's stare from across the room and she lifted her eyebrows. I knew that look. It was a look Evangeline had mastered in our youth.

 _What have you done?_

I smiled at her and she looked away, the moment gone, but I felt confident that I had done everything I could to right the mistakes I had made. Cayman released my hand and I stood. "I want to say goodbye to my daughters."

"You have time," he replied, gesturing to them. "When the storm passes, I will wait for you outside. If you don't show, our contract is void and Crowley will send his Hellhounds at midnight."

"Yeah, I got it," I said, standing. "I'll be there."

Grace

Looking back, I felt like I was watching the next few hours on mute and in slow motion. I stared at Dad from across the room as he shook hands with a large mysterious man in a suit. He smiled at me, but I looked away before he got a chance to make eye contact with me.

Serra ended up falling asleep in my lap, her head lying across my thigh as the tornado touched down. I felt her breathe; the deep, comforting rhythm was in sync with my own lungs and it was at least reassuring that I wouldn't be losing my sister tonight as well. The windows rattled and the wind howled. Hail pelted the glass and families huddled together as the storm raged on.

The tornado died down and Dad approached me, offering his hand to help me off of the floor once Serra woke up. I shook my head and pushed myself into a standing position, denying his hand. He helped Serra instead, tugging her up and yanking her into a hug.

My chest was tight as he turned to me and pursed his lips. "I love you, kiddo," he said simply, reaching out to touch my cheek. Physically unable to pull away from his touch a third time tonight, I closed my eyes as my father's memories passed through my head.

 _The night I was born, holding my head as my mother touched my face._

 _Wrapping his arms around me, teaching me to hold a gun with both hands when I was seven._

 _Letting me steer the Chevelle while sitting in his lap when I was about ten._

"Daddy, no," I said, coming back to the present, my eyes filling with tears. "We can still change something. Let's run. Right now," I whispered, my voice tight, "we can outrun him."

"There's no more running, Gracie."

"Please," I pleaded, my voice still barely a whisper.

He shook his head. "No. We're Brownings, baby girl. We don't run." I looked away as tears dripped down my face. He turned to Serra as he kept his palm on my face, knowing that if he let go, I would be thrown back into his memories when he regained contact. Reaching for Serra's opposite cheek, he pulled us together and spoke to the both of us. "You know everything you need to in order to survive. You keep hold of that house: it's paid for. Don't go giving yourselves away…you're worth more than any man's willin' to give." He took a deep breath and for the slightest moment, I saw fear in his eyes. "You are sisters and there's nothing can get between you." Leaning his forehead towards ours, we closed the gap and made contact.

I could feel the vibration of tears hitting my boots as we closed our eyes together. Daddy took another deep breath and spoke once more, his voice barely a whisper. "Twister's passed. You two head up to the car. I'll meet you up there."

Serra finally spoke, her voice clear, "Liar."

I lifted my head to see my baby sister staring up at our father with rage behind her eyes. He rubbed her cheek slightly with his thumb and kissed her on the forehead. "Go. I'm right behind you."

Hesitating, he smiled weakly at me. "Don't let this night ruin the rest of your life, Grace." Daddy pushed the duffle at me and I slung it over my shoulder. "You live your life how you want to."

"I love you, Daddy," I couldn't help saying as I heard the sound of the cellar doors creak open. Turning towards it, I glanced at my sister.

Serra was silent, her jaw locked in place as she listened. Dad glanced at her as he smiled weakly. "I love you too, Gracie." He squared his shoulders and took Serra by her face. "I love you Serendipity."

I knew it was the stubbornness that held Serra's tongue, but as he turned to walk away, Serra blurted, "I love you Daddy."

He turned and winked. "Take care of your sister. She's a terrible shot."

Serra was nodding as I pulled her away, towards the door. She fell into step behind me, walking at first and as we climbed the steps into the parking lot, our determined walk became an all out run as we bolted up the hill towards the Chevelle. I tripped on roots in the mud, barely catching myself as I dug in my pocket, looking for the keys. Unlocking the door, I tossed Serra the keys as I ripped open the car, tossing the duffle bag into the back seat. The wind and rain hadn't completely stopped and periodically, the sky still lit up with lightning bolts, streaking across the dusky charcoal sky. Thunder echoed in the distance and as another bolt of lightning splashed across the sky, I turned to stare at the restaurant at the base of the hill, our father's silhouette dark against the interior lights of the restaurant.

In my visions, I had always been screaming, trying to convince Daddy to turn tail and run up the hill to join us, but I was rooted in place, my mouth sealed shut. I was unable to make a sound as we watched Daddy approach the same man from my visions and from the cellar, shake hands with him, and bow his head humbly.

I glanced at Serra, wanting her to force me into the car as she had in my dreams, but we were statues, mouths agape and frozen in fear. The man in the suit turned away from Daddy momentarily and when he turned back, he was lifting his hand towards Daddy's head, palm out.

"We should go," I could hear Serra mumbling to herself, finally trying to convince us to get in the car and drive away. "We need to go," she said again, this time louder. "Grace. We can't watch this. Let's go!"

I was shaking my head, refusing to leave. "Daddy! Run!" I screamed, my voice finally finding its way out of my brain. "Daddy! No!"

The man stared as our father fell, limp, into a pile on the ground. Slowly, he turned to face us, and from our position on the hill, he smiled. Rage boiled in me, a fury that I had never felt before and as I stewed in my own anger, I didn't even hear the engine of the Chevelle start up. In the back of my mind, I could hear Serra's voice, but I ignored her. I closed my eyes and screamed, "No!" and lightning hit the telephone pole with such a force that it almost knocked me down. The smell of ozone was in the air and I struggled to stand against the wind and rain.

"Grace! Get in the car!" Serra's voice finally found its way to my ears as I collapsed into my seat. "Close the door! We need to go!"

Not really comprehending what she was saying, I pulled my feet into our father's car anyway and slammed the door, still staring at the restaurant where Daddy had collapsed. His body was already gone, as was the tall, mysterious man in a suit. As Serra peeled out, I stared into the storm and watched another man materialize out of nowhere, also wearing a suit. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made eye contact with me as I hung out the window. His beard was visible in the dim light and I swore I could hear howls of wild dogs being blown into the night.

We drove.

Occasionally, we would pass a sign in through the rain and the pitch black of night that would tell how many miles until the next town or that it was the last rest stop for hundreds of miles, but eventually, as the sun decided to still rise the next morning, the Chevelle limped to a stop in the middle of an abandoned highway.

Serra didn't even bother to put the car in park or pull the keys from the ignition. We just sat there, in the middle of the road, completely silent, listening to the crickets and the frogs wake to greet the day. We stayed there long enough for the sun to creep into the valley and shine through the cloud cover and stream into our windows.

"We're gonna get hit," I heard myself say, my voice weak and croaking. "We need to push it out of the way so we can walk for some gas."

Serra stayed silent, so I turned, my body taking over, and pulled the stick shift into neutral. I opened the door, got out, and walked to the driver's side, my hand finding the wheel as I pushed the 1971 hunk of steel as hard as I could to get it to roll. Watching me from her place in the driver's seat, Serra's eyes were dry, but vacant.

I got the Chevelle moving, just barely, and steered it as best as I could into a spot off the road and onto the grassy shoulder. Bumping the dirt lump of the hill on the side of the road, the car came to a stop and I reached across Serra and put it in first gear, holding the transmission in place so it wouldn't roll away. I opened her door, rolled up the window, and pulled the keys and shoved them into my pocket as I walked back towards my side and grabbed the duffle from the back seat. I opened the trunk and shoved everything inside, slamming the deck lid down and locking my passenger side door.

"Are you staying?" I asked quietly.

Serra shook her head slowly and pulled herself into a standing position. She locked the door and shut it, falling into step with me as we walked down the highway.

I had no idea where we were or how far we had driven from Marlin, Texas. I dug in my pockets for my phone, flipped it open to check the battery and shook my head, shutting it once more. The battery was dead and it was no use to me anyway. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone where I was, since I didn't know myself.

Serra's footsteps scraped the gravel with every step she took and her head hung low, staring at the ground beneath her feet. She followed me willingly, but did so slowly. "Come on, Lucky," I said quietly. "I know you're hungry. We'll find a diner and figure this out."

Her steps ceased immediately, gravel silencing beneath her feet and I turned to stare at her. "Figure this out?" she asked, her voice filled with anger. "Figure what out, exactly? Dad is dead. We did nothing. We just stood there and watched."

"We can't do this now, Serra," I said, turning away from her and continuing to trudge down the shoulder. "He made a deal. There was no stopping it, and he knew it. Turning on me isn't going to change anything." Her footsteps were still paused, but I refused to turn around. "Is your phone still charged?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We can call Emery instead of walking home."

I heard Serra's footsteps begin once more and she caught up to me, handing over her phone. There was just enough battery to make a call or two. I stopped and dialed her number, pausing to listen to the other end ring incessantly. Finally, the ringing went to voicemail and I shook my head. Emery always answered her phone, especially when we were hunting.

I closed Serra's phone and shut my eyes, trying to think of what to do next. My mind was completely blank, so I decided to go all in and use the rest of Serra's phone battery to redial the only phone number I knew by heart.

It rang six times before I heard Emery's voice answer once more, "This is Em. Try me again later."

I slapped Serra's phone shut once more and handed it to her as it vibrated in my hand, shutting down.

Serra paused long enough to take her phone out of my hand and stare up at me, her voice wavering for the first time. "Where is Em?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, kiddo."

We walked for ages along the shoulder of the highway, mostly silent, but every once and awhile, saying something about how long we had been walking and the fact that the highway was so desolated. As we peaked a small hill, there, at the bottom was a tiny salvation: a small diner in a tiny parking lot was glimmering in the early morning sun. Hoping it wasn't just my imagination, I nudged Serra's shoulder and pointed.

"Do you have any cash?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head. "Dad had the cash we had left."

"Of course he did." Serra continued walking, so I followed, still trying to figure out what to do next.

Finally, we reached the parking lot and I glanced at my baby sister, falling into my old habit of getting ready to manipulate for food. As I stared at her, though, I knew she wouldn't be able to swing her part, and I knew I would have to pull this one on my own. She was a mess: her hair was falling around her face and her eyes red and puffy. I knew I probably didn't look much better. I took a look at myself and shook my head. My knees were mud stained from where I fell, running up the hill, and my hair was coming out of the bun at the top of my head. I had dirt under my fingernails and I could feel that my eyes were swollen and red.

We probably wouldn't have to do a whole lot of conning this time around.

I opened the glass door for Serra and she walked in, barely looking up. The hostess smiled weakly at me and I tried to smile back, the familiar knot in my throat, choking my voice.

"For two, dear?" she greeted kindly.

I tried to swallow and impulsively, I spoke, "We don't have any money. Is there," I looked down at Serra, "is there some way we could, like, wash dishes or something for a sandwich?"

The hostess looked as though she wanted to hug me. "Oh, sweetie. Come on. Let's find you a seat and I'll scrounge up some food for you two."

I was in disbelief. It was the first time in my life that I didn't have to manipulate in order to get what we needed. Knowing that it was a rare opportunity, I smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

We followed her towards the back of the restaurant, right near the kitchen. She brought us water and tapped the table. "I'll see what I can scare up."

Serra stared straight forward, but I smiled and looked up at her. "Thank you." As she began to walk away, I remembered that I had no idea where we were. "Wait," I said, turning around in the booth, "Where are we?"

The look of pity fell over her face and she tilted her head. "Right on the outskirts of Liberty County, Oklahoma."

Nodding I turned back around to face my sister. "We got pretty far on that tank of gas." Serendipity stared back at me, her face lax. It looked like she was about to say something, but decided against it, so I continued. "We can't do anything until we get something to eat. You're barely conscious. Then we'll find some gas, get back to the car, and limp home."

Serra finally made eye contact with me and tilted her head. "To do what, Grace? To continue our lives like nothing happened?"

"We can't just stop living, Serra. We've still got Em. We'll get home and we'll grieve." I shrugged. "And we'll figure out a way to keep going."

Without moving her hands, Serra put her head on the table with a thump and stared out the window. I had an urge to reach out and touch her, but I was having a hard enough time dealing with my own thoughts and emotions. There was no way I wanted to deal with my volatile little sister's emotions as well.

With her head still on the table, she asked, "How are we going to pay for gas?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"We should just steal a car."

I knew she was saying it to get a rise out of me, but at this point, what did we have to lose? "Okay," I said, shrugging. "We take a car back to Lawrence? Or get one with a full tank and siphon the gas into the Chevelle?"

"Siphon. We can't leave the Chevelle."

I stared at my hands on the table and nodded. "Yeah, I guess it's about the only thing we have left."

Our waitress came back a few minutes later and brought us each a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and fries. Serra sniffed once, lifted her head and sighed. "Oh thank God," she muttered, staring at her plate.

I smiled at the waitress, glancing at her nametag. "Thank you, Rosie," I said. "We really needed this."

"Sure thing, honey," she said, winking. "We've all had some hard times. Remember that this will pass, too."

I pressed my lips together, trying not to tell her everything, simply nodding instead. "Hopefully. Do you have a payphone?"

She nodded, smiling and turned to point towards the restrooms. "It's back towards the emergency exit, in the halls near the ladies'."

She walked away and I watched Serra practically shove food into her face. I realized that we hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and I was hungry, too. I took a bite of my grilled cheese and closed my eyes.

I could still taste. I could still breathe. We would be fine.

Punching in a calling card number that I had learned a decade ago, I waited as the line connected and I dialed Emery's phone number once more. It rang and rang, finally her voicemail picked up once more. "This is Em. Try me again later," her voice said through the speaker and I turned my body away from the dining room of the restaurant and wiped my face.

"Em, it's me," I started, trying not to let my voice waver, "we're in Liberty County, Oklahoma, trying to get home, but we're out of gas and out of money. I wish I knew where you were. Our phones are dead." I paused, gripping the payphone's receiver tightly, trying not to break down. "Daddy's gone." I gasped. Saying it out loud was worse than thinking it. "I'll try you again in the next town we get to." Hanging up the phone, I wiped my face and took a deep breath. I made my way into the bathroom and washed my hands and my face, redid my hair and tried to scrape the mud from my clothes.

Serra came out of the stall and lifted her eyebrows at me. "Is Em on her way?"

I stared into the mirror, back at my sister's face and shook my head. "I left a message."

"You left a message? Where the fuck is Emery?"

Turning around, I tried to suffocate the panic that seared through my veins. "I don't know, Serra. I don't know."

"What if a demon came for her, too?"

"Because I didn't see it!" I said, too loudly. My voice echoed through the bathroom as another woman walked through the door, glancing at us nervously. I lowered my voice and moved closer to Serra. "Em was never a part of the visions. I don't know where she is. Maybe it's something as simple as the power being out at home from the storms and her phone died."

"She would have found a way to call us," she replied, her voice a whisper. "Something is wrong."

I didn't want to admit it, but Serra was right. Emery would never allow her phone to go dead without telling us first. She would have called. She would have texted. Something would have made her contact us.

Pulling Serra by her flannel into the dining room of the diner, she fell into step behind me as we headed back out into the parking lot. I glanced around. There were too many windows to the restaurant, too many witnesses. We would have to walk a bit farther for the car we needed.

"What now?" Serra asked, once we were back out in the open.

"Back to the plan. We get a car, fill up the Chevelle, and figure out a way to get back to Lawrence."

We walked another mile or so and came up to an abandoned looking house. The windows were boarded up and the yard was overgrown. Serra nodded as I pointed to the Lincoln Towncar parked in the driveway. We moved quickly and Serra kept lookout as I let myself into the car. Flipping the sun visors and opening the glove box, I dug around for the keys, unwilling to take the time to hotwire it. I had no idea if its owner was in the house we crept around, but the last time I hotwired a car, it took my fifteen minutes to get it started. We didn't have that kind of time.

Finally, feeling under the driver's side floor mat, I found what I was looking for. I held up the keys and Serra dove for the passenger side door. I started up the car, pulled it into reverse and backed down the driveway. We turned left out onto the highway and headed back towards the Chevelle.

It hardly took any time to get back to our car; we had only been about five miles away. Parking next to the Chevelle, I popped the trunk and pulled out the emergency kit Dad had packed years ago. I knew that there was tubing in the bag, just for occasions like this, and I got to work, feeding the tube into the tank of the Towncar and sucking the end of the tube carefully.

Immediately, fuel found it's way up the tube and I gagged, shoving it into the Chevelle's tank as I spit out the gas from my mouth, still coughing. I could hear the gas successfully find its way into our tank and I turned to Serra, who had the trunk of the Towncar open and she was staring at the contents inside.

"What?" I asked, wiping my face.

"As if our day could get any worse."

I walked back to the trunk as the gas tank filled and gazed into the trunk. There, wrapped in plastic, were five small bricks of white. They were taped together with clear packaging tape and my heart sank, knowing exactly what it was.

"Shit," I said, turning around in a full circle, making sure we were still alone. "Shit, shit, shit."

"We'll just put the car back," she was saying as I rubbed my face. "We'll put it back, Grace. Nothing will happen. We've only had it a few minutes."

I ran to the dash of the Chevelle to check the fuel gauge. It was at a half a tank. That was more than enough for me. "Pull it, Serra. Let's get the fuck out of here."

She slammed the trunk closed and ran to the tube and pulled it out, throwing it into the trunk of the Chevelle and closing that deck lid as well. I whipped around to face her, tossing her the keys to the car. "You drive the Chevelle, follow me back to the diner. We'll dump the drug mule at the house, walk back to the diner and get the fuck out of Dodge." She nodded, tossing me the keys and I caught them and ran around the Lincoln, wiping the trunk down with the flannel I was wearing. We didn't need Serra's fingerprints to be all over the paint.

I was panicked. _Of course we picked a car that had cocaine in it. Why wouldn't we pick the drug car?_ I took a deep breath and started the car, pulling out into the highway and taking off. There was just over an eighth of a tank of gas left and I laughed to myself, seeing the irony in running out of gas in a drug-filled car. A couple of minutes later, we pulled into the diner, Serra parked the Chevelle and got into the Lincoln, using her sleeve to wipe her prints off of the door. She sat gingerly, pulling her hair off of the seat and keeping it on top of her head. My heart was pounding. I couldn't wait to be rid of this car.

I pulled onto the highway again, going faster than I needed to be going and as we crested the hill, I saw the house that we had taken the Lincoln from. I smiled slightly and pressed harder onto the gas pedal, speeding up. We were going fast enough that I didn't register the cop car out of the corner of my eye until it was too late.

The highway patrol car joined us on the highway, turning on his lights and siren as he chased after us. I laughed out loud, because crying seemed childish. "Motherfucker."

"Holy, shit, Grace. Now what?"

I closed my eyes as I released the gas pedal. The Lincoln slowed immediately and I was shaking my head, having no idea what to say to Serra. "I don't know, Sere. I don't know."

"We're gonna get arrested."

"Just breathe, okay? Just be calm. There's no reason he needs to search the trunk. Right now, he's just pulling us over because I was speeding." I stared at her as we came to a stop. "Just be calm. Don't say anything."

She nodded and stared out the window, doing exactly what I told her to do. She was taking deep breaths and doing her best to stay calm. The highway patrol officer approached the Lincoln from the driver's side and I rolled down the window. I waited for him to speak.

"License and registration," he said as he approached the window.

I nodded and reached towards the glove box, hoping I would be able to pull this off. I closed my eyes, grateful, when I saw the glove box had nothing in it except paper. "This is my cousin's car," I said quietly, "I'm pretty sure he has it in here."

The officer watched me carefully while he rested his hand on his hip holster. "Cousin's car, huh?"

I nodded, looking back at him. "Yeah, ours is broken down. He let us take it to go pick up some gas."

The cop was silent as I dug through the papers, stalling for time. Serra glanced at me and I could see the fear in her eyes. She and I both knew already: the cop knew this car was stolen.

Finally finding what appeared to be the car registration, I smoothed it on my lap and glanced at the name on the paper. "Here you go," I said, handing it over to him, "Marcus said we could bring it back tonight."

"And you're Marcus' cousin?"

Something told me that Marcus and I weren't even the same color. "Uh-huh," I replied, already knowing that we were screwed.

"Can you get out of the car, please?"

"What? Why?"

"Get out of the vehicle, please."

I turned to Serra and shut my eyes. There it was: probable cause.

Opening the door, slowly, I brought out my legs and shoved myself into a standing position. Serra followed suit, her hands still holding her hair up around her shoulders. "Face the vehicle, palms on the roof," the officer said, his hand still on his gun. "You too," he said, gesturing to Serra." He began his pat down and I realized too late that I still had a blade on my ankle and a pistol in my waistband. "You have anything on your person that I should be aware of?"

Nodding, I spoke to the roof of the Lincoln. "Yeah, there's a .45 in my jeans and a knife on my ankle." I shook my head slowly. This was getting worse and worse.

"Is the weapon loaded?"

"Yes," I said, hanging my head. He lifted my shirt and pulled my mother-of-pearl handled, engraved .45 Colt on the hood of the car and reached down towards my feet to pat the edges of my ankles. I was grateful that he was wearing gloves…I wasn't pulled into his subconscious every time he touched me. Tugging up the pant leg of my jeans, he reached into the boot on my right side and pulled out my four-inch blade, setting it next to the gun.

"You have a permit for these?"

"No."

"Anything else I should know?" he asked, handcuffing my right hand and dragging it back behind me. He reached for my left and I shook my head.

"No," I said, sighing.

"You're under arrest for concealed weapons without permit and suspicion of grand theft auto," he cuffed my left hand to my right and walked me to the patrol car. "You're not gonna run, are you?"

"No."

He walked around to my sister and went through the same routine with her as he did with me. She was packing more than I had been, she was under age, and wasn't in school. At least she couldn't be tried as an adult, although, knowing our luck, she would be because of the weapons charge. Shaking my head, I couldn't believe this was happening. He guided her to stand near me and walked back to the car, bagging each one of our guns in its own Ziploc bag. Serra had been carrying her engraved twin .45s, two four-inch blades and a .9-millimeter. I glanced at her and shook my head. "Where did you have the nine?"

"Ankle holster."

We sighed together and leaned up against the patrol car. I shook my head again as the cop walked over to the trunk release and popped it. As he began his walk towards our doom, I leaned my head towards Serra and whispered, "At least we'll have regular meals and a bed."

"I'm glad you've finally started to find the silver lining," she sighed, letting her head fall back and hit the roof of the patrol car.

We were taken to the local police station where our statements were taken over and over by different people in different, separate rooms. We stuck to the same story, knowing that if we wavered once, we were completely screwed. I faced my third interviewer of the day and shook my head once more. "I told you. The keys were in it. We were bored. We went for a joyride." My interviewer looked irritated. "I had no idea about the coke."

She leaned forward towards me across the table. "Then what's with the guns? You two were packing like you were ready for a war."

"Haven't you seen shit go down lately? People acting insane?" I leaned back in my chair, my handcuffed hands on the table in front of me. "Tornadoes and earthquakes? It's like the fucking apocalypse." Tilting my head, I raised my eyebrows. "Daddy always said that we needed to be prepared for anything."

"Your sister is fifteen. She was carrying five weapons." She flipped through the booking folder in front of her and shook her head. "Three guns and two knives. What do you think would attack you?"

I shrugged. "Don't know, but we were ready for it."

Obviously frustrated, the lady cop stood and closed the folder in front of her. Frustrating police officers seemed to be a good thing. I figured it translated to the fact that they had nothing on us. She approached the door and I shifted my position on the chair, trying not to make a big deal about how badly I wanted to talk to Emery. "You think I could have my phone call now?"

She didn't answer me as she let the door shut behind her. I was left in the room alone and I glanced around, shaking my head, keeping up the façade that I had taken the car to go joyriding. I hoped that Serra wasn't throwing around too much attitude.

Serra

"Look, I told you," I was saying as the booking officer went through his line of questions again. "Daddy always said to be ready for anything. Rapists? Muggers? End of the world enthusiasts? This is Oklahoma. Anything could happen."

"You had two .45s and a .9-millimeter. Seems like overkill to me." He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his salt and peppered hair. "Besides, you're under age, without a weapons permit. You're breaking laws, left and right."

I sighed dramatically, "Well, it's not like we were joyriding while shooting people. We were carrying. There's not much you can charge us with."

"Where are your parents?"

I looked away, my theatrics wavering only momentarily. "Dead."

The cop chewed the inside of his cheek as he decided how to proceed. "And who takes care of you? Your sister?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, packing all those guns. I mean is she your legal guardian?"

Shrugging, I answered. "I guess. We're orphans rather recently." The cop wasn't sure how to proceed, so he stood and gathered his notes. I stared up at him and raised my eyebrows, "Can I have my phone call?"

He led me down the hall, my handcuffs clinking together as I walked. Handing me the receiver of the phone, he held his finger over the buttons expectantly. I blanked. Emery's phone number was the only one I knew by heart, but I didn't want to waste my phone call on Emery if Grace already had tried. "Um, can I talk to my sister first?" He shook his head and waited. Sighing I rolled my eyes and recited Em's number as the cop punched it in and walked away.

The phone rang and my heartbeat sped up while I waited. "Please pick up," I said, closing my eyes and listening. Three rings. "Please, Em. Pick up." Four. Five. Six.

"This is Em. Try me again later," her voice said over the speaker. I closed my eyes as tears spilled onto my cheeks unexpectedly.

"Em, we're in some trouble. We got picked up in Liberty County and I don't know anyone else's phone number." I took a deep, shaky breath. "We're in lock up right now. If you could come…or call…I don't know what to do." I glanced back at the cop as he waited at the end of the hall. Wiping my face and sniffling, I continued. "We need you, Emery. Please."

Hanging up the phone, I turned back to the cop. He approached me and I shook my head. "She didn't answer. Do I get to call someone else?"

"Sorry," he said, leading me back towards the holding cells in the back of the building. He opened the cell door, ushered me inside and closed the bars in front of me. "Put your hands through the bars," he said. "I'll take off your cuffs."

"Thanks." I said, looking around. "Where is my sister?"

"Still in interrogation."

I nodded and turned to sit down, rubbing my wrists where the cuffs had been. Leaning up against the bars of the cell, I let my head rest against the wall and sighed.

Grace had been gone for a long time and I knew it was because I was underage. There wasn't much they could charge me with, especially since I wasn't driving, but they could hold me on a weapons charge, if they really wanted to. I had fallen asleep, but not much time had passed since the officer had put me in my cell. Hearing footsteps down the hall, I stood and approached the bars of my holding cell.

"Step to the back of the cell," Grace's officer said, ushering her down the hall. I did as he said, moving towards the cot and keeping myself still as I watched. Grace looked exhausted with bags under her eyes and her hair a shambles. He unlocked the cell and slid the door open just enough to push Grace through. "Hands through the bars," he said, and she complied, holding her cuffs out to be taken off.

As the officer walked away, she walked to the bench next to me and sat, holding her face in her hands. "Are you okay?" I asked, standing close enough to touch her, but resisting.

She sighed, staring up at me through bloodshot eyes. "Yeah, I'm just tired."

"Did you use your phone call?"

"Not yet," she answered, shaking her head. "I wanted to know if you called Em again."

Nodding, I replied. "Yeah, she didn't answer again."

"Then I'm going to use my call for Bobby Singer."

"The guy that fixed the cars?"

Grace nodded again and stood, pacing around the cell. "He's the only other person I can think of that would be willing to help us." She stopped and stared at me, her eyes wide. "Everyone else we know is dead."

We sat in our cell for hours. The only movement we heard was from the front of the building, when phones would ring or doors would slam. We were the only two in holding and for that I was grateful. Eventually, our arresting officer came towards our cell with two sandwiches and a bottle of water for each of us. "Wow," I said quietly. "You were right."

"I told you," Grace replied, standing in the back of the cell as he approached. "Dependable meals and a bed."

Nodding I stood as well to take the tray from the cop. "Thanks," I muttered and set it on the bench.

"I'll take my phone call now," Grace said quietly, "if that's okay."

The cop raised his arm to check his watch. "Your assigned defense attorney should be here soon. You wanna save it for then?"

"You're charging us?" she asked, dumbfounded.

He nodded, shrugging. "You broke the law."

I took a bite of my sandwich and watched Grace close her eyes. "I'll still take my phone call," she said quietly. "I need the business card out of my wallet."

"You don't know the number?"

Grace shook her head. "It's a new number. It's why I have his business card."

"Fine," said the officer, "let's go."

Grace

"Bobby?" I asked as soon as he answered, "Bobby this is Grace Browning."

There was a pause from the other end of the phone as he placed my name, "Oh, hi, Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

I smiled, incredibly grateful that he had picked up at all. "We're in some trouble, Bobby." I explained as simply as I could what our situation was and that we needed to get out as soon as we could. "They've got us on a weapons charge." I glanced up at my arresting officer; "The car we were joyriding in had a kilo of coke in the back." Shaking my head at how awful that sounded, I plowed on, "We're in a holding cell in Liberty County, Oklahoma."

"Are the charges gonna stick?"

"Probably. They're bringing in a pro-bono."

Bobby paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I take it you're calling me because it's after your birthday."

It was Bobby's way of asking if Dad was dead, considering his contract with the Crossroads Demon was to be completed the day of my twentieth birthday. "Yeah," I said sadly. "We can't get a hold of Emery either."

That seemed to throw him, "What do you mean?"

"It's been over thirty-six hours and we haven't heard from her."

Bobby seemed to be pacing around the room as he spoke. Every once and awhile, I could hear something get shuffled around. "I'm a little tied up with some stuff," he said, "but I'm sending a friend. He'll post bail."

"Then what?"

He held the phone close to his face as he answered, "Then you get gone."

We spent two nights in lock up and finally, we were ushered into another interrogation room, this time together, but handcuffed once again. A woman, barely older than me came walking into the room, holding a briefcase. Setting it down carefully, she opened it and tried to smile at us. "Hi, I'm Odette," she said. "I've been assigned to your case."

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. "What are you, nineteen?"

"I'm twenty-six."

I pressed my lips together. "Awesome." Odette laid papers and folders all across the table in front of us and I watched, knowing full well that if we went to trial, I would lose and my sister would be alone. "Look, it's been almost three days," I began. "I told them when we were brought in that we were joyriding and they happened to find coke in the trunk. It's not ours."

Odette looked up at me and stared with her giant brown eyes. "So I have heard."

"So shouldn't the charges just be dropped? Can we just pay a fine and move on with our lives?" I shook my head. "This seems like a lame case to bring to trial."

"If you're willing to plea out, then it shouldn't be too bad."

"Plea? What kind of deal?"

Odette tilted her head and shrugged. "Probably six months for joyriding with an expired license. The weapons charge will add another six months or so."

"A year?" I spun around to face the wall. "A fucking year for something like this? We didn't even fire a shot!"

There was a knock on the glass and we all turned to see our arresting officer gesture at Odette. I turned to Serra and rolled my eyes. This was bad. Our assigned attorney turned and said, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"We're fucked," I said, sitting in the chair behind me. "Well, they'll probably let you go. But I'm fucked. Completely fucked."

Serra remained silent and stared forward. I stared through the window as well, trying my best to hear what was happening. The door of the interrogation room opened and our arresting officer gestured to the both of us. "You made bail. Let's go."

Glancing at Serra, I stood immediately and followed them both out of the room. There was an African American man standing in front of the counter with a canvas backpack on top of the tile. "Hi girls," he greeted, his dark eyes paranoid and jumpy. "Bobby sent me." I couldn't help feeling relieved and walked towards him as he filled out our release paperwork. I stood next to the counter and glanced around. Seeing the date on the calendar, I realized that it had only been three days since Dad was killed. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Okay," the arresting officer started, "one wallet, one cell phone, a pack of gum, and a hair band," he said, putting the things that were in my pocket in a row on the counter in front of me. "Your sister's things: one quarter, a set of keys, one Swiss Army knife, one hair tie, and a lighter."

I gathered her things and dropped them into her extended hand. I willed her not to ask about our guns and blades, glancing at her and shaking my head slightly. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

"Alright, girls," Bobby's friend said, turning and smiling. "I'm gonna hit the head right quick and we'll get the hell out of here."

I nodded, my jaw clenched. He grabbed his backpack and took it with him down the hallway to the public restroom that was behind the office. The cop stared at me from over the counter. "You will be assigned a court date and times to meet with your attorney in the next few days. Don't leave town."

Gritting my teeth, I nodded.

Serra stood on the balls of her feet, itching to hit the door running. Bobby's friend hadn't come back yet and we waited as patiently as we could to get out of the Police Station. I could feel the glass doors pull at me like a magnet and finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he came trudging down the hall once more, closing his backpack and throwing it over his back. "Alright, ladies, you ready to find our motel?"

I glanced at him and nodded. I had no idea who this man was, but I had to trust him, knowing he was our only way out. He walked to the door and held it open for us as I heard the female officer ask, "What happened to the monitor? It just went black."

He let the door shut and spoke quietly and quickly. "Where's your Daddy's car?"

"In the diner parking lot off the 75," I said, following Serra to the passenger side of the old truck.

"I'm Rufus," he said, breathless, "and me and Bobby go way back. You're lucky I had the time to come down here, because I'm still righteously pissed at that asshole."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Bobby Singer can kiss my ass. Your Daddy, I like." He glanced at me as he started the car. "Where is he?"

I looked away as we tore out of the parking lot. "He's dead."

Rufus seemed genuinely sad, his shoulders lowering and his expression softening. "I'm sorry to hear that, hon." He looked out onto the highway as we gained speed. "He was a good man." I nodded slightly as he went back to business. "Okay, your guns and knives are in that backpack. Go ahead and grab them before you forget."

Serra and I both whipped around to stare at him as we flew down the road. "What?"

"Your guns. They're in the bag. Couldn't leave evidence that you were there."

Shaking her head, Serra said, "They already took our prints. We're in the system."

"You were in the _local_ system," he replied, smiling. "They only brought in your public defender today. She hadn't processed everything yet. No one had filed with the state."

"What does that mean?" Serra asked, leaning around me on the bench seat.

Rufus grinned as I opened the drawstring on the canvas backpack. "It means that my EMP just wiped their system. You're in the clear, ladies."

I laughed out loud in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"Nope." He glanced in the mirror and smiled, "It'll take them at least a week to get things sorted out, this far into the boonies. By then, you'll be gone, your records will be clean and there won't be any proof that you were even there." Rufus grinned, shaking his head. "It's what they get for joining the digital age."

I could have cried, I was so happy. Reaching into the backpack, I pulled out Serra's twin .45s and my pearl handled masterpiece. She held them, smiling for the first time in days and I dug for our knives as well.

In no time at all, we were parking in the diner's lot, Dad's Chevelle still waiting for us as we climbed out of the Ford truck. Rufus followed us, dragging a giant gas can out of the bed of his truck. "Don't stop until you get home." I nodded as he filled up the rest of our tank. "When you get there, lock it down. Don't come out for nothing."

"What about Em? If she's not there, we need to find her."

Rufus nodded at me and shut the gas tank. "We'll figure that out if it comes to it." I unlocked driver's side door and popped the trunk. Rufus put the half filled gas can in the trunk and slammed the lid. "Time to go, Grace Browning."

I hugged him, wrapping my arms around his tall shoulders and closing my eyes. Serra wrapped herself around the both of us, squeezing as hard as she could. "Thank you, Rufus. We owe you."

"No you don't," he said quietly. "You've been through enough."

Letting go, I jumped in the driver's seat and unlocked the passenger door. Serra ripped open her side and climbed in as I started the engine. With a final look of thanks, I smiled and peeled out of the parking lot, headed for the highway.

We did exactly what Rufus said to do. We drove from Liberty County, straight to our street in Lawrence, not stopping for anything. It took us just under four hours to make it and we tumbled out of the car, running to the front door, seeing Emery's truck standing there in our driveway.

Serra was yelling her name at the top of her lungs and I was fumbling for my keys, struggling to get them into the locks. "Emery!" she shouted behind me as I finally shoved the key into the deadbolt and turned, ripping the door open.

There was a breeze flowing through the living room from the windows that stood open, the curtains dancing in the afternoon sunlight. "Em?" I yelled, listening for her footsteps upstairs. "Em!"

Serra ran up the steps and yelled from room to room. I made my way towards the swinging door in the kitchen and pushed it open.

My hearing went first, the world around me going silent. Then my legs failed, sending me to my knees and crashing to the floor, shock washing through my entire body as I stared at her lifeless body on the floor.

I knew without touching her that she was dead. Her face had a blue tint and her eyes were still open. From my position on the floor, I stared at her vacant face, her mouth slightly open as if in surprise. Allowing the tears to come for the first time, I tried to call out to my sister as she came pounding back down the steps. I tried to stop her from seeing Emery on the ground, but my mouth couldn't form the words.

Serra almost tripped over me, her eyes finding Em on the floor. "Emery!" she screamed, jumping over my legs, trying to get to her body in the kitchen.

"Serra, no," I finally said through my sobs. "She's gone."

I knew Serra's instinct was to bend and try to hold her, but instead she pulled away and collapsed next to me on the floor. Her thoughts and memories washed over me as she made physical contact and my body curled as her pain seared through my mind like white-hot fire. I did what I could to pull my sister into a hug, but our shoulders shook as we struggled for breath.

There was no one left. I looked down at Serendipity through my tears and for the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea what to do. I kissed her scalp and let her cry.

We were completely alone.


End file.
